Yesterday morning I began Mass in a dark church praying for light. Peter my server trained his little flashlight on the five blessings to be prayed over an array of wax candles. It was the Feast of the Presentation of the Lord, “a light to the nations and the glory of His people Israel.” We bore our lit candles into the darkness toward an illuminated altar, where Mass would begin. “After the perilous darkness of this life,” I prayed, “may we deserve to attain to never-failing light: through Thee, O Christ Jesus, Savior of the world….”
A global darkness is spreading. As a boy I lived with the dark specter of nuclear war from Soviet Russia. The darkness spread in the 70s and 80s as “enlightened secularism,” Europe’s version of Marxist materialism. This darkness has taken children off the streets, it has cast a shadow over the joys of marriage, it has splintered families, it has spread terror among nations. The Polish people were brave enough to chant “we need God” to their Soviet overlords, but how many can articulate our need for Something Greater in Europe or America today?
A global darkness is spreading. As a boy I lived with the dark specter of nuclear war from Soviet Russia. The darkness spread in the 70s and 80s as “enlightened secularism,” Europe’s version of Marxist materialism. This darkness has taken children off the streets, it has cast a shadow over the joys of marriage, it has splintered families, it has spread terror among nations. The Polish people were brave enough to chant “we need God” to their Soviet overlords, but how many can articulate our need for Something Greater in Europe or America today?
Italian soldiers guarding the basilica of the Santa Maria Maggiore in Rome I was in Rome last autumn, and it seemed like the city has come under siege since my last visit in 2010. I was surprised to see half a dozen heavily-armed soldiers eyeing our movements at every major public venue. People used to freely go in and out of these great public monuments, but now we pass Italian soldiers bristling with grenades and heavy machine guns. The soldiers were pleasant, but there is something unnerving about the level to which Rome has armed itself. We visited the French national church to see the famous Caravaggio paintings, and of course to greet Our Lord. The church was armed to the teeth in the wake of recent attacks in France. Two soldiers with bigger-than-usual guns stood by a small tank, and our happily babbling young adults grew silent as we passed between the muzzles of the soldiers’ fearsome guns.
Living in such constant fear is the bitter price a society must pay for abandoning faith in a power higher than itself. Europe is perfectly aware that the weak remnants of its Christianity cannot defend the continent against the ardent faith of Muslim believers. Go to a mosque, and you see people praying. Go to a Catholic basilica, and you see people talking and taking pictures. I entered St. Mary Major to pray my office one morning but nowhere could I find a prayerful corner. The distinctiveness of Christian prayer is silence, but there was no silence at St Mary’s. Our churches are not so much houses of prayer as museums, and we don’t seem to miss the silence.
Without silence, we have no prayer, and without prayer no real faith, and without faith, we sink into darkness and fear. A society without God is a society that fences in its neighborhoods and encircles its public areas with guns and metal detectors. Without a Father in the room, we decline into endless squabbling. Without a Higher Law, especially the Christian law of love, everyone is your potential enemy. It’s pretty dark out there, but the flames of faith are not entirely extinguished. I followed 30 people yesterday who bore tiny flames into a dark church, toward a well-lit sanctuary, where Mass would begin. And it was a beautiful Mass. Happy Candlemas!
Living in such constant fear is the bitter price a society must pay for abandoning faith in a power higher than itself. Europe is perfectly aware that the weak remnants of its Christianity cannot defend the continent against the ardent faith of Muslim believers. Go to a mosque, and you see people praying. Go to a Catholic basilica, and you see people talking and taking pictures. I entered St. Mary Major to pray my office one morning but nowhere could I find a prayerful corner. The distinctiveness of Christian prayer is silence, but there was no silence at St Mary’s. Our churches are not so much houses of prayer as museums, and we don’t seem to miss the silence.
Without silence, we have no prayer, and without prayer no real faith, and without faith, we sink into darkness and fear. A society without God is a society that fences in its neighborhoods and encircles its public areas with guns and metal detectors. Without a Father in the room, we decline into endless squabbling. Without a Higher Law, especially the Christian law of love, everyone is your potential enemy. It’s pretty dark out there, but the flames of faith are not entirely extinguished. I followed 30 people yesterday who bore tiny flames into a dark church, toward a well-lit sanctuary, where Mass would begin. And it was a beautiful Mass. Happy Candlemas!
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