Fight 'em until we can't

There's a problem in the West, the cultural and political mega-entity that we used to call Christendom, and that the Muslim fanatics (who clearly haven't been keeping up with the news in the last 50 years) still imagine they are fighting. I read somewhere that the savages are crowing about how they've struck a blow against the "children of the cross" with the Paris shooting. (Seriously, you freaks, if you think that Charlie Hebdo had anything to do with Christianity you've got a pretty big problem with your brains.)

Where was I? The problem in the West... Yes, it's that the people in it no longer love it, no longer care enough to fight to defend it. And, honestly, it's hard to argue against this. What about the post-Christian "West" is worth fighting and dying for? Universal health care? The European Convention on Human Rights? Secularism? The "right" to have the government pay for your gender reassignment? The perpetually open maw of Europeans who have become as helpless and dependent as baby birds waiting to get fed predigested food regurgitated by Mamma-government?


As I write this, I'm listening to a CD of Maddy Prior and the Carnival Band singing their cheery versions of Medieval English Christmas carols. The work of this group has always been to reach back into England's musical and cultural and religious past and bring it forward, to remind us of its homely greatness, the humane, the sane greatness of Christian culture.

As I was listening to it, and reading ... well... all that, all that we've all been reading in the last few days, I was thinking that there is indeed something I'm willing to fight and die for. But it has nothing to do with anything the EU or its fellow travellers think they are doing, or with Charlie Hebdo's mentally and morally disordered rants. Honestly, I've always hated that stuff since it started appearing in the 1970s.

What I love, and am willing to fight and die to protect, is what I've found still surviving in this valley I've moved to. In the middle of the Apennine mountains, a hidden and almost secret place where the ancient and good things are still honoured, remembered and kept. Will I fight and die for this? Oh, hell yes.

Will I fight and die for the disgusting, drooling, squelching anti-culture we've created since 1965? No, I'm afraid that thing is on its own.

The remnants of Christendom are hanging on by a thread, assaulted on our ancestral turf by our own traitors. In our even more ancient homeland it is shattered. Is it beyond repair? I don't know, but I think all this will require more than we are able to do to restore. It will take direct Divine Intervention, and I honestly think that is where all this... all of it, including what's going on in Rome... is going. It is what I'm praying for, almost exclusively, now. That, and that the time will be short, and that souls will not be lost along with lives, or too much that is good and beautiful and precious will be burnt, bombed and destroyed.

I can offer no advice at all to the individuals, who do email me from time to time, asking what they should do, except that we must fight. We must fight the twin threats with everything we have and all our strength. How that will manifest in your own town or parish or family I have no way of knowing. Maybe "fighting" will take the form of simply resisting the secularising trends in your schools or parishes. Maybe it will mean packing your family every Sunday into an oversize van and driving an hour each way to get to the Real Mass. Maybe it will mean standing in front of an abortion mill with a giant graphic image of aborted children and replying to the hate with reason and facts.

Maybe, and perhaps increasingly, it will mean actual fighting, as it has in Iraq and elsewhere.

But I offer this conversation from a man who has studied Islam, Andrew Bieszad, with an old Coptic woman who faced down her Islamic persecutors:

"...so I sat and had begun to eat when an elderly Coptic woman sat down next to me. I struck up a conversation with her, and when I told her a little about myself and my background, she smiled warmly and began speaking in an animated and passionate Arabic.

Over the next hour she told me her life story, about growing up in Egypt, being harassed by Muslims, the threats made against her and her family, and how she eventually came to America with her adult children and their families because the persecution was too severe. She said that she was disappointed by many of her fellow Coptic priests and parishioners. In her words, because they did not take an aggressive posture against Islam and the Muslims who habitually harassed them, they worsened their own standing. She added that because Islam has no concept of love, Muslims only respond to force. That it is the only thing they understand.

She told me that one of the last confrontations she had with the Muslims was right before her family left Egypt. She and a friend were walking home when a group of young Muslim men approached them and began verbally and physically harassing them for being Christians.

“Do you know what I told him?” the woman said.

“What?” I asked.

“I did not show him any fear. We pushed him back and punched him, and we screamed at them ‘Your god is ****, your prophet is ****, and you are **** because you believe in them!’ They ran away, because all Muslims are cowards, and they are afraid when you stand up to them.”"

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