Michelangelo Merisi da Caravaggio, “The Conversion of Paul the Apostle”, 1600-01, Detail. Odescalchi Balbi Collection, Rome. Public Domain.
Conversion and reparation
God is light, and in him there is no darkness.
(1 John 1:4-6, DRA).
The conversion story of Constantine (AD 306-337) discussed in a recent essay is redolent of the conversion of Saul of Tarsus who was struck by an intense light; sent a message from God. Saul fell to the ground trembling in fear, only to be uplifted, transformed in name and purpose as Paul.
Midday, O king, I saw in the way a light from heaven above the brightness of the sun, shining round about me, and them that were in company with me. (Acts 26:13, DRA).
He was stopped in his tracks traveling on the road to Damascus to persecute Christians. Paul’s zeal was rerouted to the extreme inverse: to preach reconciliation of sins through Christ. Paradoxically, as he was tasked to enlighten and testify to the Truth, he had been temporarily ‘blinded by the light’.
But rise up, and stand upon thy feet: for to this end have I have appeared to thee, that I may make thee a minister, and a witness of those things which thou hast seen, and of those things wherein I will appear to thee, Delivering thee from the people, and from the nations, unto which now I send thee: To open their eyes, that they may be converted from darkness to light, and from the power of Satan to God, that they may receive forgiveness of sins, and a lot among the saints, by the faith that is in me. (Acts 26:16-18, DRA).
Paul (AD 5-67) had been a Pharisee –member of an elite council of rabbis that along with the Sadducees of the Sanhedrin were devoted to upholding the Law of Moses, the Torah. Some members of the council recognized Jesus as Messiah (the prophet anointed (appointed) by God; also called the Son of Man; the Christ). Among them: the preeminent legal scholar Gamaliel; Nicodemus; and Joseph of Arimathea, the man who arranged for the burial of Jesus. Like Paul, these rabbinical leaders are recognized as saints: exemplars of righteousness.
Perhaps due to depth of knowledge, there was a tendency among Pharisees to prosecute infractions down to the letter, often with a vigilance befitting major violations. Some conveyed a false piety by outwardly professing status at the expense of the humility required of repentance and service to God. This drew the ire of Jesus who accused them of hypocrisy. His warning to them provoked contempt when it might have provided salvation. Comparing their talent to an endowment, Jesus admonished that favor would be withdrawn at the time of judgment from those who instead of investing their gift, hoarded it as though treasure. God wants us to configure the means by which to share our unique talents.
For to every one that hath shall be given, and he shall abound: but from him that hath not, that also which he seemeth to have shall be taken away. And the unprofitable servant cast ye out into the exterior darkness…. And when the Son of man shall come in his majesty, and all the angels with him, then shall he sit upon the seat of his majesty. And all nations shall be gathered together before him, and he shall separate them one from another, as the shepherd separateth the sheep from the goats… (Matthew 25: 29-30, and 31-32, DRA)
The passage echoes “The Parable of Drawing in the Net”, recounted in the Gospel of Matthew. Also a saint, Matthew was martyred celebrating mass in a distant land. He disavowed a lucrative profession to become an apprentice and devotee (disciple) of Jesus. He was the first evangelist to author a testament of Christ’s ministry, producing a gospel about seven years after the Ascension. According to St. Matthew, Jesus explained that at the Last Judgment the angels will separate the righteous from the wicked just as fishermen sort their catch and throw the bad fish back into the sea.
Again the kingdom of heaven is like to a net cast into the sea, and gathering together of all kind of fishes. Which, when it was filled, they drew out, and sitting by the shore, they chose out the good into vessels, but the bad they cast forth. So shall it be at the end of the world. The angels shall go out, and shall separate the wicked from among the just. (Matthew, 13:47-49, DRA)
The parable draws upon the conceit, Tikkun olam, an ethos of Rabbinical Judaism, the Oral Torah (Mishnah) and the mystical Kabbalah. It assigns man responsibility to repair the world (“Mipnei tikkun ha-olam”). The mission originates with the Lurianic account of creation in which divine light was transferred to Adam but through sin, man broke cosmic order, shattering the world to pieces as though it were a vessel. Man is twice tasked:
•to gather the light (that is, reconstitution of the soul) through the practice of sacred acts and
•to separate the holy from the unholy shards in attempt to repair the world.
The mystical ‘clean-up’ would have man rewind time to undo what has been done.
Acts of Love
The world’s three monistic theologies hold that there is Divine Order to the universe and that chaos results from interfering with or upsetting it. They are similar in their regard for God as One; Absolute Truth. He is eternal and beyond the world yet, also within the world (transcendent and immanent).
By contrast, man exists in a shadowy state of appearances, our knowledge is limited, dimmed by circumstance and bound by chronological time. In face of what appears as injustice and tragedy, God’s will is incomprehensible. Many men are deceived into anger or denial of God. They are cast into despair, conflict, and anxiety. As St. Paul explained in a letter to the Greeks, only when we come face-to-face with God will his Truth will be revealed to us (enlightenment).
We see now through a glass in a dark manner; but then face to face. Now I know in part; but then I shall know even as I am known. (1 Corinthians 13:12, DRA)
The monistic religions are consistent in the various types of behavior deemed most offensive to God: disbelief, paganism, and irreverence. They are the subject of the first—and most important—Commandments handed down to Moses:
•I am the Lord thy God; Thou shalt have no other gods before me.
•Thou shalt not make unto thee any graven image.
•Thou shalt not take the name of the Lord thy God in vain.
They are reiterated in the first, imperative, proclamations in the Lord’s Prayer handed down by Jesus:
•Our Father who art in heaven, hallowed be thy name.
•Thy Kingdom come, thy will be done on earth as it is in heaven.
The universally unappealing yet, enduring, message of Jesus Christ is to suppress self-will in deference to God and to dissolve selfishness through acts of love and fellowship. It is a paradox by which emancipation from sin is gained by renunciation of one’s will in obedience to God. Jesus provided clarification on Mosaic Law by emphasizing the essential and issuing a new commandment.
But the Pharisees hearing that he had silenced the Sadducees, came together: And one of them, a doctor of the law, asking him, tempting him: Master, which is the greatest commandment in the law? Jesus said to him: Thou shalt love the Lord thy God with thy whole heart, and with thy whole soul, and with thy whole mind. This is the greatest and the first commandment. And the second is like to this: Thou shalt love thy neighbour as thyself. On these two commandments dependeth the whole law and the prophets. (Matthew 22:34-40, DRA)
Among Christ’s peaceful exhortations—found, then as now, by so many to be untenable—four stand out for the ages:
•Love your neighbor as much as you love yourself.
•Do not be anxious about tomorrow.
•Judge not, that you be not judged.
•Ask, and it will be given to you.
Falling in love
Judaism and Christianity hold that sin is rooted in the self. The Fall from paradise as described in the Book of Genesis cast humanity into discord and alienation from God. It precipitated a fall from grace –a state of purity and tranquility, free from disturbance and concupiscence (the lust that disposes man to sin).
concupiscence (Latin, concupiscentia: with desire) strong sexual desire; lust. In Catholic and Lutheran theology: the human tendency to sin.
For from within out of the heart of men proceed evil thoughts, adulteries, fornications, murders, Thefts, covetousness, wickedness, deceit, lasciviousness, an evil eye, blasphemy, pride, foolishness. All these evil things come from within, and defile a man. (Mark, 7:21-23, DRA)
Humanity is willful, yet weak to exercise self-control. Acts of selflessness (charity) bring the isolated into fellowship and communion with God. By contrast, acts of selfishness precipitate loss of self-control and risk binding us to habitual transgression. The abject result of licentiousness is a depraved state of addiction. Thus, by asserting independence from God, man strays from righteousness and forfeits freedom and tranquility.
As recounted in the parable of the prodigal son, The Father’s love and mercy exceed expectation; God is always waiting and willing to receive those who repent.
St. Paul describes sin as an inner conflict –degrees of which may be held in check by regulation (as provided by law). The resolve to conduct ourselves righteously is perpetually contested by an inclination to bad behavior, even though we may be repulsed by it. We simply have trouble controlling ourselves. Anyone who has had difficulty maintaining a resolution (to lose weight; exercise more; conduct oneself with composure, or what have you) understands this iniquity. This tendency towards sin is intrinsic to human nature (‘original sin’).
I do not know sin, but by the law; for I had not known concupiscence, if the law did not say: Thou shalt not covet…. For we know that the law is spiritual; but I am carnal, sold under sin. For that which I work, I understand not. For I do not that good which I will; but the evil which I hate, that I do. (Romans 7; 14-15, DRA)
Whether it is a slip in judgment, a blunder; ‘going off course’; missing a mark; or failing to live the life that God intended for us… sin is at base an iniquity. It is a disposition by which we fall short of goodness (by what we do and what we fail to do). Sin is a lapse or a trespass that can affect injustice or even produce a cascade of injustices, if not lawlessness. As discussed by the late modern Anglican evangelist, John Stott, all sin is licentiousness, exaltation of the self. Our ability to recognize or regulate sinful behavior is contingent upon moral standards. As morality degrades, it becomes increasingly difficult for a civilization to appreciate the depths of its depravity.1
All iniquity is sin. And there is a sin unto death. (1 John 5:17, DRA).
The root cause of sin is selfishness, manifested in infancy by childish behavior. Through the purification ritual of baptism, partaking of additional sacraments, and by parenting, prayer, and moral education (such as that to be gained by the reading of scripture and Catechism), the mature soul develops virtue. Through sublimation of “the way of the flesh” the weight of sin is lifted by spirit in equipoise. The path towards sainthood is essentially one of self-mastery, selflessness, and trust in God.
In the United States—as in many countries today that extol personal freedom—the imperative to place God first; others second; and self last is quick becoming obsolete. God does not want us to celebrate independence and liberty from Him. Rejection of Christianity—in particular the apostolic faith of Catholicism—often arises from modern confusion of liberty, love, and license and a general failure to appreciate doctrine, discipline, and reconciliation as emancipatory forces. As Jesus explained to St. Nicodemus, sin binds man to darkness; enlightenment requires that we be ‘born again’; that we reconstitute ourselves through purification (baptism), reconciliation (confession); that we strengthen our faith (confirmation). The essence of Christianity is reconciliation with God; it is a “rescue religion”.2 The anecdote to the abject state of selfishness is charity (caritas or love). Where sin divides, love unites; where sin separates, love reconciles.3
The church was established by the apostles to proclaim and preserve Christ’s ministry. The Catholic and Orthodox traditions celebrated the Solemnity of Saints Peter and Paul last week on June 29th. Evangelists, they taught the good news (gospel) that God determined to redeem sin by incarnating as man, providing guidance, and reestablishing the covenant. The apostles (Greek, ‘apostolos’: “person sent”), were dispatched by God as itinerant preachers to establish His church. They were infused with the Holy Spirit at Pentecost –conferred with supernatural powers of communication and healing (benediction). St. Paul hiked across Turkey and Greece accompanied by St. Luke teaching and fostering Christian communities. St. Peter traveled through Palestine and Asia Minor. According to Eusebius—an historian of the early church—St. Peter and St. Paul taught together in Rome where they were martyred circa AD 64-68.
While St. Matthew was the first apostle to write a good news account of the life and ministry of Jesus; St. John was the last, providing an inspired prologue and epilogue (Revelation, also called The Apocalypse, from the Greek, apokálypsis: to uncover, reveal).
According to St. Matthew’s account of, “The Transfiguration of Christ”, a supernatural light appeared to an inner circle of apostles (Peter, James, and John) on the summit of Mount Tabor (Har Tavor, Israel), in the valley of Armageddon near the Egyptian town of Nazareth where Jesus was raised. There, Christ transformed into intense white light and cast apparition of Moses and Elias.
And after six days Jesus taketh unto him Peter and James, and John his brother, and bringeth them up into a high mountain apart: And he was transfigured before them. And his face did shine as the sun: and his garments became white as snow. And behold there appeared to them Moses and Elias talking with him. And Peter answering, said to Jesus: Lord, it is good for us to be here: if thou wilt, let us make here three tabernacles, one for thee, and one for Moses, and one for Elias. And as he was yet speaking, behold a bright cloud overshadowed them. And lo, a voice out of the cloud, saying: This is my beloved Son, in whom I am well pleased: hear ye him. And the disciples hearing, fell upon their face, and were very much afraid. And Jesus came and touched them: and said to them, Arise, and fear not. And they lifting up their eyes saw no one but only Jesus. (Matthew, 17:1-8, DRA).
Later exiled at Patmos, St. John encountered the risen Christ with a countenance brilliant like the sun: his “eyes were as a flame of fire”; his “feet like unto fine brass, as if they burned in a furnace”. As he fell to his knees on the Egyptian mountaintop as a young disciple, so at the Greek island did the aged apostle drop “as though dead”. He received the message:
I am Alpha and Omega, the first and the last: and, What thou seest, write in a book, and send it unto the seven churches… (Revelation 1:8; 1:11; 21:6; and 22:13, DRA).
John delivered his gospel to the preachers with the admonition for the audience to listen up.
He that hath an ear, let him hear what the Spirit saith unto the churches: To him, that overcometh, I will give to eat of the tree of life, which is in the paradise of my God. (Revelation 2:7 DRA).
As described by John, sin flourishes in darkness; it is a denial of God:
And this is the judgment: because the light is come into the world, and men loved darkness rather than the light: for their works were evil. For every one that doth evil hateth the light, and cometh not to the light, that his works may not be reproved. But he that doth truth, cometh to the light, that his works may be made manifest, because they are done in God. (John 3:19-21, DRA)
John’s prologue (the last gospel) explains that Christ is Logos, translated from the Greek as ‘The Word’, but encapsulating also The Truth or Divine Order of the Creator, that which defies chaos. To defy Logos is to upset cosmic order.
Logos: word, reason, the ordering principle of the cosmos, i.e., logos spermatikos: the generative principle of the Universe which creates and takes back all things.
In the beginning was the Word, and the Word was with God, and the Word was God. The same was in the beginning with God. All things were made by him: and without him was made nothing that was made. In him was life, and the life was the light of men. And the light shineth in darkness, and the darkness did not comprehend it. There was a man sent from God, whose name was John. This man came for a witness, to give testimony of the light, that all men might believe through him. He was not the light, but was to give testimony of the light. That was the true light, which enlighteneth every man that cometh into this world. He was in the world, and the world was made by him, and the world knew him not. He came unto his own, and his own received him not. But as many as received him, he gave them power to be made the sons of God, to them that believe in his name. Who are born, not of blood, nor of the will of the flesh, nor of the will of man, but of God. And the Word was made flesh, and dwelt among us, (and we saw his glory, the glory as it were of the only begotten of the Father,) full of grace and truth. (John 1:1-14, DRA)
Eschatological prophesies hold that Christ will return to judge the living and the dead, interpreted as conferring Judgment upon the whole of humanity. Christians anticipate the site of the Second Coming as Mount Tabor. In 1924, Franciscan monks heeded St. Peter’s recommendation and established a church on the site of the Transfiguration, Basilica of the Transfiguration. It conjoins three chapels devoted to Jesus, Moses, and Elias.
Islam prophesizes the Second Coming will take place in the environs of St. Paul’s encounter, at the location of the Great Mosque of Damascus. It is the burial place of St. John the Baptist’s head.
The good news of the gospels is announced by the invocation: “Repent and rejoice for the Kingdom of God is at hand!’” proclaimed by the ministry of Saint John the Baptist and by the apostles. Reconciliation or atonement—the condition of the soul being in communion (at-One) with God in the afterlife—was made possible by the salvation brought about by Jesus, the anointed One (Christ). Jesus supplicated himself to treachery, humiliation, and death in assumption of the penalty for the sins of man. As on the Hebrew Day of Atonement when Aaron laid his hands on the scapegoat and confessed the sins of Israel in order to transfer them in sacrifice of the creature, so Jesus assumed the sins of man as symbolic Paschal lamb. His sacrifice saves us. His sacred blood cleanses us; His body and blood confirm us.
Christianity holds that communion of Creator and creature (man) can only be achieved by man’s disavowal of sin through confession and contrition (resolution to eliminate the behaviors that lead to sin). Humanity is tasked to act in accord with Mosaic Law as amended by the lessons and instructions of Jesus and to partake in the sacraments of baptism, confession, and communion (the taking of bread and wine—the Blessed Sacrament—which is done in ceremonial remembrance of Jesus). Called the Eucharist, communion is a thanksgiving celebration.
Jesus conferred the ability to forgive sin to the apostles, founders and priests of the church.
Whose sins you shall forgive, they are forgiven them; and whose sins you shall retain, they are retained. (John 20:23, DRA)
In the sacrament of penance, Catholic and Orthodox Christians confess specific bad acts and vow to act in contrition in private rooms called confessionals, attended by priests who issue penance and absolution.
The Eucharist nourishes mind, body, and spirit. The sacrament of communion provides an opportunity to come close to Christ, to have him abide in us. Another sacrament that invites intimacy with Christ is venerating the Eucharist, a practice called Adoration.
In Christianity, spirituality deepens as we ‘fall in love’ with Christ. Only through humility can the self loosen its worldly ties in search of intimacy with the eternal God. Thus, pride is regarded as an exceptionally destructive vice because egoism freights us and bars devotion and communion.
As with the virtues of faith and hope, caritas or love is a matter of the heart. It is mysterious –even miraculous. To be inspired is to be drawn by love nearer to God. The Sacred Heart of Jesus is the life force –the locus of The Creator’s energy. It is symbolized by wine and by the scarlet bird, the cardinal. Our heart is the portal by which God in the form of the Holy Spirit permeates our soul, mind, and body. The Holy Spirit is expressed by eternal fire as conveyed by the burning bush at Mount Sinai and the flames of Pentecost. The fire purifies, sanctifies. The Holy Spirit is also symbolized by the white dove –that which signaled Jesus as Christ at His baptism presided over by St. John the Baptist. The Holy Spirit is the advocate or Paraclete sent by God to stand beside you, fortify you, to have your back. He is the ‘Divine comforter’. He is the sanctifier who sets us free from sin.
Come Holy Spirit
Replace the tension within us with holy relaxation.
Replace the turbulence within us with a sacred calm.
Replace the anxiety within us with a quiet confidence.
Replace the fear within us with a strong faith.
Replace the bitterness within us with the sweetness of grace.
Replace the darkness within us with a gentile light.
Replace the coldness within us with a living warmth.
Replace the night within us with your day.
Replace the winter within us with your spring.
Straighten our crookedness.
Fill our emptiness.
Dull the edge of our pride.
Sharpen the edge of our humility.
Light the fires of our love.
Creator God, let us see ourselves as you see us
That we may be all that you created us to be.
Fill us with the courage to be risk-takers
To open our hearts and through that opening,
Touch other hearts with your love.
Michelangelo Merisi da Caravaggio, “The Conversion of Paul the Apostle”, 1600-01, Odescalchi Balbi Collection, Rome. Public Domain.
Mired in materialism
An influential theory of modern times is FreudoMarxism, derived from psychoanalytic theory (Freudian theory) and dialectical materialism (Marxism). Freud drew from the Judaeo–Christian view of the conflicted self to argue man’s interior struggle through the lens of the unconscious. He outlined the dynamics of the psyche in “Beyond the Pleasure Principle” (1920) and “The Ego and the ID” (1923).
Freud accorded man a tripartite structure of mind, a divided self: ‘the It’; ‘the I’; and the ‘Over-I’. These terms were translated into English by the Bloomsbury Group couple James Strachey and Alix Sargant Florence as ‘the id’; ‘ego’; and ‘super-ego’. The ‘id’ (identity as libido) is sexual desire; the super-ego is morality; the ego is caught in-between the extremes of concupiscence and morality –riddled with conflict. Psychoanalytic theory holds that man is driven by oppositional forces towards love or death. The Strachey’s translated ‘drive’ (Trieb) as ‘instinct’. The love instinct is reflected in creativity and reproduction; the death drive is reflected in the compulsion to destroy; to wage war, etc. Despite acknowledgment of a virtuous force within humanity Freud characterized the super-ego (the Over-I) as a parental nag, a conscience easily manipulated by the impetuous, childish, self (ego).
Freud asserts that sublimation of taboo behaviors (such as pederasty) does less to uplift the soul than to alienate man from both primitive and civilized states. Suppression of bestiality yet fails to secure comfort within society where man is haunted by his shadow self. Man is either condemned for having committed transgressive acts or bound to cognitive dissonance for having sublimated evil impulses. In many respects the dark counter to the spiritual virtues of faith, hope, and charity, the materialism of psychoanalytic theory views man as enslaved by desire, mired in the ways of the flesh. The mediation of psychoanalysis (the purported ‘talking cure’ of disquietude) falls short of the catharsis provided by confession and reconciliation with God.
FreudoMarxism is the materialist theory undergirding surrealism and the Frankfurt School of philosophy. It emerged during the World War I and Bolshevik Revolution, the darkest of modern times that prompted visitation by the Holy Mother. The Blessed Virgin Mary admonished restoration of faith in the greatest manifestation of divinity since ancient times. She instructed us at Fátima, Portugal to issue this petition in prayer:
O, my Jesus forgive us our sins. Save us from the fires of hell. Lead all souls to heaven, especially those who are in most need of thy mercy.
A series of supernatural events in Fátima included a galactic showcase, “The Miracle of the Sun” which occurred Oct. 13, 1917. One witness account chronicled by Father John De Marchi recounts that the spectacle caused many to fall to their knees.4
As if like a bolt from the blue, the clouds were wrenched apart, and the sun at its zenith appeared in all its splendor. It began to revolve vertiginously on its axis, like the most magnificent firewheel that could be imagined, taking on all the colors of the rainbow and sending forth multicolored flashes of light, producing the most astounding effect. This sublime and incomparable spectacle, which was repeated three distinct times, lasted for about ten minutes. The immense multitude, overcome by the evidence of such a tremendous prodigy, threw themselves on their knees. —Manuel Formigão, a priest and professor at the seminary at Santarém
Another materialist philosophy to emerge from the demoralization of the World Wars is existentialism. It holds that due to the finitude of death, man is faced with perpetual dread and tasked (to no avail) to understand the meaning of existence. Inspired by 19th century philosophers who recognized man to be at the threshold of losing touch with God, 20th century existentialists drew less upon Kierkegaard’s apology of Christian faith than upon Nietzsche’s mad assertion that God was dead.
Untethered from Divine Order, man was left to grope a path through a meaningless existence; as Jean-Paul Sartre would have it, man was “condemned to be free”. Sartre’s assertion, “existence precedes essence”5 argued the case for atheism. He contended that in the absence of God, there was no legitimacy to Mosaic Law; everything was permitted. This view provided license for obscene behavior on Sartre’s part, not the least of which was pedophilia and drug addiction (Sartre shared Freud’s obsession with childhood sexuality and narcotics and notoriously advocated to normalize pedophilia). As may be gleaned from portraits, Sartre suffered from acute exotropia of his right eye, as though more were needed to cast the staunch Stalinist in the light of the spirit of anti–Christ.
While Kierkegaard (1813-55) is credited with identifying the loss of faith in Denmark, the cord binding us to God likely began to unravel centuries prior (arguably with the Reformation). Existential loss of faith provided a context for the maddening condition of a certain haunted and suicidal Danish prince by the name of Hamlet, notoriously stuck in trauma, unable to reconcile thought with action.
Apart from the Russian flag whose design was discontinued when the country transitioned to the atheistic soviet state under Leninism and Stalinism, countries within the monarchical House of Oldenburg, a Germanic dynasty with ties to Denmark, Russia, Greece, Iceland, Norway, and Sweden have flags that mark the sign of the cross. That Norway, Sweden, and Denmark continue to bear cruciform regalia is shocking as these nations constitute three of the top five atheistic countries in the world today. [The others on that top-tier (or bottom rung) list are Japan and Vietnam, nations pummeled by 20th century bombing campaigns.]
Although notorious for dismal suicide rates, the Nordic nations—which attribute despair to conditions of light as places eclipsed by long winters of near continual darkness—have been surpassed in existential regard by the US, which was found in 2020 to have the highest suicide rate of all wealthy nations in the world. Since, the desperation has reached new depths, as reflected by the spectacular suicide of Miss USA, January 2022. After posting a selfie to Instagram that wished for rest and peace, the celebrity social justice lawyer jumped from a New York skyscraper. Her name was Cheslie Kryst.
Like Freud (and French psychoanalyst, Jacques Lacan who elucidated Freudian theory by way of structuralism) French literary theorist, René Girard conceived of identity formation and human desire as relating to mythology and culture. Girard held that concupiscence arises in the individual through interaction with a social network (his theory is termed, ‘mimetic desire’). Extending a lineage of FreudoMarxism,6 Girard argued that we lust for that which we lack. Further, we often desire (or fetishsize) something because someone with whom we are infatuated or in competition with has it or wants it; (mimicry, covetousness). Community becomes threatened by mimetic desire, riddled with conflict. [It is not coincidental that Girard’s students at Stanford University (such as Peter Thiel) were among founding investors in the first social media company, Facebook (Meta).]
Like Freudian theory, mimetic desire presumes that man is incapable of regulating desire in the interest of peace and fellowship.
An Algerian atheist–auteur associated with French existentialism, Albert Camus critiqued Sartre’s dark vision. Camus championed the writing of Simone Weil, a Jewish intellectual of the first order who converted to Christianity. Camus heralded her work as an “antidote” to the prevalent nihilism of the age. You may have seen or read Samuel Beckett’s bleak play, “Waiting for Godot”, but have you read Weil’s inspired, “Waiting for God”? Weil discusses the sacrament of communion, by which the Eucharist is offered by the priest in mass. She argues that all Christians should strive to act as though priests –that all communicants are bearers of enlightenment and tasked to evangelize. At the time of Fátima and the generation of FreudoMarxist theory Weil became the first woman admitted to the philosophy department at the École Normale. When she graduated, she placed first in class (ahead of Simone de Beauvoir, the lauded “Second Sex” lover of Sartre and his pedophiliac conspirator).
In light of diaspora and global SARS lockdown, recent times have inspired many to consider Camus with respect to “The Stranger” or “The Plague”. In my opinion, “The Fall” resonates even more deeply with the present historical moment. Published in 1956, “The Fall” revisits the expulsion from paradise. It explores sin –acts of commission and acts of omission, or that which we do and fail to do. It admonishes man to seize upon every opportunity to act righteously, even in the theorized absence of divine judgement. Camus presents sin as a centrifugal force that decimates all that lay in its path, wreaking havoc like a tornado. It casts the hero of the novel into foggy oblivion, forever remorseful for his inaction.
The novel hinges on a singular event: a sin of omission. Walking home late one night, the hero crosses a Parisian bridge upon which he spies a woman leaning over the edge. While he thinks it curious, he doesn’t stop to speak with her. As he passes, he hears a splash and understands that she has leapt into the Seine. In shock, he freezes and does nothing but walk away. The rest of his life spirals into the abyss of hell, as he rues his decrepit decision.
“The Fall” came to mind before I saw the video of the man who abandoned his car to approach a stranger poised to jump off a bridge. He caught sight of the young man standing at a precipice, ditched his car and rushed to him straight away, bringing him to safety with a hug and saying, “I got you, bro”. That was an act of love. It came to mind before I saw the videos of annus horribilis (2021), the only viral components of the pandemic that I have thus far (by the grace of God) come into contact with. One after another in frightful succession the heartbreaking clips circulated: people caught on camera falling to the ground (many of them to sudden death). Newscasters, lecturers, entertainers, athletes, even an Arabian prince. One comedienne dropped—as they all did: stiff like a plank—while performing on stage. She fell upon mocking Jesus as though smote.
Michelangelo Merisi da Caravaggio, “The Conversion on the Way to Damascus”, 1600-01, Santa Maria del Popolo, Rome. Public Domain.
Reformation as art
Milanese artist, Michelangelo Merisi of Caravaggio (called, Caravaggio) was commissioned to illustrate the inspiration of several saints including their conversion and martyrdom. Like some of his contemporaries of the Spanish Netherlands during the Counter–Reformation (notably Zurburán), Caravaggio deployed the style of Tenebrism (Italian: ‘tenebroso’: “dark, gloomy, mysterious”) to theatrical effect. The tenebrosi or shadowists wielded extreme contrast of value, juxtaposing light with darkness (a technique termed, ‘chiaroscuro’: “light and shadow”) to encapsulate the relationship between the clarity of God and the clouded condition of man. Their work—commissioned by a Catholic church reimagining itself in light of Protestant iconoclasm—shares an ascetic sensibility disparaging of color, decoration and materialism. The spartan style mirrors the severity of the art’s devotional subjects, often monkish saints: Francis, Ignatius, Dominic, and Benedict.
The essence of drama is conflict, reflected by Caravaggio’s theatrical paintings. A mercurial man, he lived the life of an outlaw on the run as an accused murderer and pederast. In his Luciferian life and art, Caravaggio casts a sinister example.
Caravaggio issued two versions of St. Paul’s conversion (the first was rejected by its patron). Another canvas portrays the conversion of St. Matthew, a tax collector drawn from material to spiritual pursuit as disciple and evangelist.
In “The Conversion of Paul the Apostle” (1600-01) and the revised, “The Conversion on the Way to Damascus” of the same date, Caravaggio depicts fallen man at the mercy of God. Mired in darkness, St. Paul lies prostrate, blinded and paralyzed by fear. His lowly station is subject to hazard. His body is entangled and bound up by vermilion cloaks, shredded like ribbons as though caught up in tentacles or the ropes of a net. The rejected canvas portrays the Godhead as Christ and Holy Spirit. It represents the crimson hand of God reaching out to St. Paul whose own hands shield his wounded eyes.
Michelangelo Merisi da Caravaggio, “The Calling of Saint Matthew”, 1599-1600, San Luigi dei Francesci, Rome. Public Domain.
I recall my first visit to Saint Louis of the French, a dimly lit church near the Piazza Navona that houses a number of paintings by Caravaggio. As a teenager my first time abroad, my aunt Marion escorted me to Rome. We put coins (then lira, a currency still used in Turkey, Lebanon and Syria) into the meter to illuminate the tableau, “The Calling of Saint Matthew” (1599-1600 also called, “The Inspiration of Saint Matthew”). No light meter ever illuminated a work of art quite so dramatically.
Like the collapsed and blinded St. Paul, St. Matthew is portrayed as lowly and oblivious, hunched over, his head bowed as though tugged down by gravity. He is preoccupied with money, counting coins –the only one at the table not to see the light that beams down from heaven targeted directly at him as though to awaken him from stupor. The canvas hangs nearby Caravaggio’s, “Martyrdom of Saint Matthew”.
Michelangelo Merisi da Caravaggio, “The Supper at Emmaus”, 1602-3, National Gallery, London. Public Domain.
Another subject who renounced wealth to pursue a life of poverty in devotion, Caravaggio’s portrayal of Giovanni di Pietro di Bernardone (“St. Francis of Assisi in Ecstasy”, circa 1594), is considered to be the earliest of the artist’s religious subjects. The canvas is one of the most important Baroque paintings in America, held at the Wadsworth Atheneum Museum of Art in Connecticut. It depicts St. Francis in stigmata. This summer it is on loan to an exhibit at the National Gallery, London, “Saint Francis in Meditation” built around Zurbarán’s painting of the same title. [The National Gallery is the repository of Caravaggio’s, “The Supper at Emmaus”.]
On Mount Tabor (at the time of his momentary transfiguration into light) Jesus revealed that as foretold by scripture, the prophet Elias (he who had been assumed into heaven on a chariot of fire) had come to prepare the people for the coming of the Messiah –suggesting that the spirit of the prophet who lived along the Jordan River inspired the ministry of St. John the Baptist who baptised in the Jordan. (Matthew, 18:9-13). Jesus said that as this had gone unrecognized, so too would He fail to gain proper recognition. There were even some among His intimate followers who did not recognize Jesus as Christ before the Resurrection.
In the Gospel “The Supper at Emmaus”, as recounted by St. Luke—St. Paul’s evangelical cohort— the risen Christ met with two disciples, walking with them a good distance. It was not until they sat down together to dine that they recognized him as Jesus. The story is illustrated by Caravaggio in a 1602-3 canvas. The scene represents the subjects at the blessing of the bread at the dinner table –the act by which Jesus opened their eyes to his true identity at the moment that he was poised to vanish before them. By way of gestures, the scene suggests the crucifixion. But the vision is anchored by the sacrament –the taking of the Eucharist, the act by which Christ remains with us, transformed into sustenance as Bread of Life.
The image contains a symbol of Christ cast in the shadow of the bread basket: the Ichthys or sign of the fish, redolent of the miracle by which Jesus secured his first apostles at the Sea of Galilee, Peter and his brother, Andrew; John and his brother, James. Fisherman having cast nets all night to no avail, Jesus implored them to try once more. Although they knew their trade well enough to know what not to expect, they indulged Jesus and cast their net again. To their astonishment, they reaped an abundant catch that weighed down the boat. The story echoes the parable of the fishes and importantly: warns of the danger of the intellect to strip away faith.
A harrowing depiction of martyrdom is Caravaggio’s “The Crucifixion of Saint Peter”, 1601 which hangs along with “The Conversion on the Way to Damascus”, in the church of Saint Mary of the People (Santa Maria del Popolo), Rome. When St. Peter was condemned to death, he requested to be crucified upside-down because he didn’t regard himself worthy to die in the same manner as Christ.
Michelangelo Merisi da Caravaggio, “The Crucifixion of Saint Peter”, 1600, Santa Maria del Popolo, Rome. Public Domain.
Resources
Conversion need not be dramatic or sudden; perhaps it is a slow, unfolding process. It is never too late to hear the Word of God; to open the door to Him.
This article contains easy steps to learn about Christianity; links such as John R. Stott’s, Basic Christianity, a good and friendly primer for many Americans; and educational links for the study of Catholicism (Catechism).
If you are Jewish and would like to learn more about Jesus, you may find the evangelical mission, One for Israel interesting.
Catholics are urged by the Blessed Virgin Mary to recite the rosary, especially in October, the month dedicated to the rosary in remembrance of Our Lady’s petition at Fátima. Those seeking deeper intimacy with God may be interested in a week-long spiritual retreat at a priory in which an examination of conscience and general confession might be conducted.
As I sang in my post last Independence Day, I am concluding with a song here (again, with sincere apologies for my shortcomings as a singer). Befitting the subject less than the season, it is a Christmas carol.
O Holy night!
The stars are brightly shining. It is the night of our dear Savior's birth.
Long lay the world in sin and error pining 'Til He appears and the soul felt its worth. A thrill of hope the weary world rejoices. For yonder breaks a new and glorious morn.
Fall on your knees! O hear the Angel voices! O night divine! O night when Christ was born. O night, Divine! O night, O night divine!
This essay is dedicated to Peter and Paul and all the courageous saints and heroes inspired to attest to the Truth and confer acts of charity and fellowship. In particular, one such bystander who rushed past entreaties for personal safety to administer to an injured motorist: my brother, Joseph, Advocate.
As always, thank you for reading.
Please feel free to share and comment.
Peace and love,
Poppy
John R. Stott, Basic Christianity, Inter-Varsity Press, 1970, p65
Ibid., p81
Ibid., p102-105
Father John De Marchi, “The Immaculate Heart”, 1952
Jean–Paul Sartre, “Being and Nothingness”, 1943
Mimetic desire conflates concupiscence and violence, thereby encapsulating the Sado-Masochistic aesthetic that grounds Surrealism. His penchant for ethnology and anthropology likewise suggests extension of a FreudoMarxist genealogy. Despite Girard’s professed conversion from atheism, his fear of man’s destructive power suggests an anthropocentric world view that betrays the Christian perspective.