Of my wretched uncles’ religion what am I to say? Was it utter hypocrisy, or had it at any time a vein of sincerity in it? I cannot say. I don’t believe that he had any heart left for religion, which is the highest form of affection, to take hold of. Perhaps he was a sceptic with misgivings about the future, but past the time for finding anything reliable in it. The devil approached the citadel of his heart by stealth, with many zig-zags and parallels.
– Le Fanu, Uncle Silas
For the invisible things of him from the creation of the world are clearly seen, being understood by the things that are made, even his eternal power and Godhead; so that they are without excuse: Because that, when they knew God, they glorified him not as God, neither were thankful; but became vain in their imaginations, and their foolish heart was darkened. Professing themselves to be wise, they became fools.
As Edgar tells of his own suffering his father’s suffering, and King Lear’s suffering, Albany finally has to end the chronicle of suffering:
If there be more, more woeful, hold it in;
For I am almost ready to dissolve,
Hearing of this.
I feel as Albany felt when I read about the various atrocities inflicted on the white race by the liberals and the colored heathens. There is a limit to how much I can absorb before I dissolve. C. S. Lewis advised us not to read newspapers, lest we become overly involved in events that we cannot control and as a consequence ignore certain matters close at hand over which we have some control. He makes a good point, but Lewis still lived under a Christian canopy. His right to live in his rooms at Oxford were taken as a given. He didn’t have to worry about the Moslems and the colored heathens at his front door. They were over there – in other lands far afield from England. The one weakness of Lewis’s Narnia, which is the greatest literary work of the godless 20th century, comes toward the end of the Last Battle when Lord Digory says, “It’s all in Plato, it’s all in Plato.” No, it is not all in Plato. Our God has a local habitation and a name. His name is Jesus and His local habitation is the human heart. When our racial hearth fire is attacked, we are deeply and intimately involved in that attack, because the attack involves our God and our people. When our kith and kin bleed, we bleed. Without that sympathetic connection to our people, we are bereft, we are cut off, not only from our people, but also from our God, who comes to us through our kith and kin. We must, like Albany, know our limits, but we also must see that the race war, whether in South Africa or across the street, is local. The liberals and the colored heathen want our blood. Every white atrocity story is our story, because we are connected to our people and our God through our racial hearth fire. The bell tolls for us.
Why were all the early racial Universalists always atheists, while the ‘racists’ were Christians? It is no accident, because those people without a home, without a racial hearth fire, cannot know the God-Man of the Christian faith. Such creatures, the men without a people they can call their own, have no ties to humanity. They have left their humanity behind in order to become philosophical speculators, so they must live life second-hand through the colored heathens.
The whole thrust of Satan’s attack on God has been directed at the white race, because the European people made Christ the God of their racial hearth fire. ‘To be a white man’ meant to be a Christian. In modern Europe, what does it mean ‘to be a white man’? It means one must hate the white race and love the colored heathens. Why? Is it the Christian thing to do, to despise your own people? The romance of Christ’s birth, death on the cross and resurrection from the dead has become as sounding brass or a tinkling cymbal to the European people. They have speculated that romance out of existence. Now the liberals who say there is no such thing as race worship the colored races. Men must worship something; if they do not worship the God-Man they will turn to the man-gods of nature. Pope Francis’s rain forest gods are one with Rousseau’s Noble Savage.
I’ve reached the time of life when a number of my friends and relatives have received that summons which we all dread. The sudden death of a loved one by heart attack or stroke is more of a shock to our spirit, but the long, slow death from cancer seems more terrible still. Sympathy for the loved one is paramount, but there is also a certain guilt: “How can I proceed with life as usual when he or she is going through such suffering?” And then there is the resentment: “Why should anyone, particularly someone I love, have to endure such suffering?” And finally there is our own fear of death: “Is this the promised end?” Neither the old paganism nor the new paganism, which is liberalism, gives us an answer to death. The Viking funeral service and the liberals’ death-and-dying courses do not help us deal with our longing for “the touch of a vanished hand and the sound of a voice that is still.” We can’t go to the churches for an answer, because they cannot provide us with a heartfelt vision of the God-Man who conquered death. They can only put out an intellectual theory of a God who may or may not have risen from the dead. But they do tell us that we can hope that at some future date mankind will live in a racially harmonious world in which mankind will survive, even though all men will perish as individuals. What is missing in that scenario of the liberals? Personal immortality is missing. Why should I, or anyone, bother about utopia if everything ends with the grave?
The pagans face death by immersing themselves in the ecstatic moment. Their faith is in sex and blood. The liberals are trying to do likewise, but they are failing miserably. They are dying in despair and forcing the white grazers to die in despair as well, because they have destroyed the European hearth fire. At the hour of our deaths, we need Christ, the God of our ascending race. And He comes to us through our people. The dying always want their loved ones around them at their hour of death, but if their loved ones have forsaken their European hearth fire, or if they themselves have forsaken their people during their lifetime, they will lack that human conduit to the living God that we all, even if we fled from Christ during our lifetime, need at the hour of our death. Satan’s attack, through his liberal minions, on our racial hearth fire has been successful. The Europeans have lost everything – they have lost their will to live, and they have lost His blessed assurance and comfort at the hour of their deaths. Why have they sold their souls to the devil? What will he tell us at the hour of our deaths? “Despair and die!”
The Enlightenment did not begin with Rousseau and the French Jacobins. You can trace the Enlightenment philosophy back to the great scholastic and then to its ultimate source – the enemy of mankind. But the idea of enlightened man-gods who could do without the God-Man became institutionalized in Europe at the time of the French Revolution. That is why Burke, who saw that the French Revolution marked the death knell of Christian Europe, was anathematized by the liberals. Satan did not want to be ‘outed’ at that point in history. Now that the ‘enlightened’ idea of God has become embodied throughout what was formerly called Christendom we are faced with a tragic irony: The people who once saw a great light are blind. The great era of Enlightenment is upon us and behold, “all is cheerless, dark and deadly.”
Utopian ‘Christians’ and the secular liberals always point to the Christian era of European history as a period of darkness, because the antique Europeans were racist, sexist, homophobic, and Islamophobic. In other words, they were unenlightened. They, according to the liberals and the theologians, were steeped in superstition and prejudice. But what were they prejudiced against? They were prejudiced against the darkness of heathenism, which the liberals have revived; a heathenism that leaves us without the Savior. St. Paul tells us, “That if thou shalt confess with thy mouth the Lord Jesus, and shall believe in thine heart that God have raised him from the dead, thou shall be saved.” Is that confession and that heartfelt faith such a little thing that we can trade it for the glories of liberalism?
The philosophical speculator can only delineate evil, he cannot delineate the good. Socrates could tell us that Zeus was not a god, but he could not tell us who God was, nor could Plato, nor any of the other philosophers who followed in his train. But St. Pal could define the good, not by way of the syllogism but by a heart to heart connection to the living God. It was the Europeans who followed St. Paul that carved out a realm of light in a world that had once been in total darkness, not the philosophical speculators. Our hope in this world and the next is not something we can see with our minds, but we can see Him with our hearts if we believe as St. Paul and the antique Europeans believed.
The liberals tell us that we are getting close to the kingdom of heaven on earth if we just would eliminate the last remnants of the white man’s Europe. But what is occurring is something quite different from what, according to the liberals, is supposed to be happening. The world has been plunged into darkness. There are degrees of darkness, to be sure, but all the nations of Europe are moving away from the light. As we move further and further away from our racial hearth fire, we move further away from His realm of charity. And it is only through that charity, engendered and nurtured in our European home, that we form a bond with the living God. It doesn’t matter how many church organizations survive if our racial hearth fire is destroyed. We must be part of His realm of charity in order to confess with our mouths and believe in our hearts. We need our home, if we intend to live and die connected to Him.
In a little known work of Dickens, called Master Humphrey’s Clock, Master Humphrey rejects the cosmic mysticism of the heathens for the European way, the way of charity, which begins at home and connects us to our people, living and dead, who are sustained by His divine charity.
What if I be? What if this fireside be tenantless, save for the presence of one weak old man? From my house-top I can look upon a hundred homes, in every one of which these social companions are matters of reality. In my daily walks I pass a thousand men whose cares are all forgotten, whose labours are made light, whose dull routine of work from day to day is cheered and brightened by their glimpses of domestic joy at home. Amid the struggles of this struggling town what cheerful sacrifices are made; what toil endured with readiness; what patience shown and fortitude displayed for the mere sake of home and its affections! Let me thank Heaven that I can people my fireside with shadows such as these; with shadows of bright objects that exist in crowds about me; and let me say, ‘I am alone no more.’
I never was less so—I write it with a grateful heart—than I am to-night. Recollections of the past and visions of the present come to bear me company; the meanest man to whom I have ever given alms appears, to add his mite of peace and comfort to my stock; and whenever the fire within me shall grow cold, to light my path upon this earth no more, I pray that it may be at such an hour as this, and when I love the world as well as I do now.
Our fight is not for a lighter shade of darkness, which the more conservative politicians offer us. Our quest is to find, once again, the light that shineth in darkness. We won’t find that light at the top of the pagan’s cosmic tree. We will find it in the visionary heart of Master Humphrey and his friends, who are gathered together by the European hearth fire. That hearth fire, so demeaned by the liberals in church and state, is the only hearth fire where there is the charity which never faileth. The European people have died as a people because they have accepted the darkness of liberalism. They no longer believe that there is a light that shineth in darkness, because they no longer have a heart for the Son of God. They have become as Le Fanu’s Uncle Silas – they have a certain intellectual desire to be godly, but they have lost the heart to love the living God. We must cling to our only hope – we must believe that His charity never faileth. At the hour of our death and in the face of the death of our people, we must stay with Master Humphrey and his friends who knew that Christ is the beginning and the end of the European story. +