Here we are on the cusp of a new year. If we reckon it according to orthodox historiography, 2017 marks the 500th anniversary of the Reformation as well as the 100th anniversary of America’s entry into WWI. Observed through the lenses of Christendom, both centennials are pregnant with significance: the former being the commemoration of national independence under God, and the latter, the first civilization-wide repudiation of the same.
As current trends portend, 2017 is leaning toward a revival of nationalism throughout the states of old Christendom, but Western man yet remains ensconced in the philosophies which led him to the repudiation of nationalism in the first place. So the dawning year reifies Schaeffer’s question, How should we then live? Which is really to ask two distinct but inseparable questions — not only “What ethics must we live by?” but “What must our worldview be in order for our people to survive?”
Putnam’s famed euphemism for the diversity-driven atomization of our society, and the attendant loss of social capital, was Bowling Alone. This atomization was what reduced us unto, in Wilmot Robertson’s words, The Dispossessed Majority, because it was insisted that the majority — White Christians — were no longer allowed to see ourselves as a group with interests of our own. So much so that now the Left sees no contradiction at all in proclaiming that White people never actually existed but nonetheless remain the villains of history and must be eradicated. But Nisbet explained to us how the libertarian impulse (sold to us by the likes of Rand and Friedman as a supposedly conservative/Right conviction) only atomized us so that the Leftist state could dispossess us; and the social vertigo and moral angst into which this plunged Western man now compels us to our present pilgrimage which Nesbit dubbed The Quest for Community. This is where Western man finds himself now, a people grasping for their own predication, as seen in Falconer’s recent song, “Long Gone By“:
The paths we used to tread
And the secrets we then told;
No one knows them by now,
And we, we are too old.
We linger on hand in hand,
Through the dusk-veiled glades,
Recalling our lives
As tomorrow it fades.
Remember the times
When we ruled,
You and I.
Where our Eden lie
In an age long gone by.
Your hair
Was like of a golden
Shiny dye.
Now so grizzled from
An age long gone by.
This is a heartsick lament for a civilization straining at its own faltering memory. It is an ode to The Permanent Things otherwise forgotten; things which defined and justified us for millennia; things which we’re being compelled to confess we cannot live without.
But in the midst of this providential prodding, at precisely the moment when their message is most needed, our prophets have fallen silent: just as our secular kinsmen find themselves casting about for moral and epistemic preconditions to the struggle for our existence, our churchmen have suddenly thrown in with all the forces of darkness demanding the erasure of Christendom and all the kindred nations which comprised her — even going so far as to condemn all memory of Christ’s covenant with our people as a pagan thing.
Despite the conditions spreading before us “a field white for harvest” (Jn. 4:35), the compromised priests would rather the White race — their own children included — perish rather than confess Christianity as the key to our nations’ restoration. For the modern churchman is, under the hateful eye of the liberal clerisy, resolved to condemn all the effects of Christianity upon our people, appalled at the civilization which Christianity built. For obsequiousness to the world, they cannot affirm even the blood-and-soil doctrine throughout Scripture.
At their liberation from Egypt the Israelites bore away with them the bones of Joseph. These they consigned to the earth at Shechem, the tract of land bought by Jacob four centuries prior (Josh. 24:32). Clearly, Moses did not regard the bodies of his kinsmen as refuse, nor the soil beneath one’s feet as irrelevant, as do moderns. Though separated by hundreds of years, they honored the physical remains of their dead in expectation of resurrection, and followed the pattern by which Abraham and the patriarchs had consecrated the land with monuments such as altars to Jehovah, megalithic works commemorating covenant dealings with His people, wells for the sustenance of the folk and their flocks, groves planted for the shade of oases, and the tombs of their dead (Gen. 23). All these markers identified the country with its people. The reciprocal process of drawing life from the land and committing the bones of our people to the same weaves cords of both physical and metaphysical connection between a nation and its domain. Blood and soil, though distinct one from another, are never wholly separate. Even a people dispossessed from their homeland and estranged of their own in diaspora are tied by cords of lineage back to certain lands of nativity, and even the vagabond yearns for a home.
For the dignity of their memory, David fought his way into the Philistine stronghold to retrieve the bones of his fallen friends, Jonathan and Saul (2 Sam. 21:12-14). Such was his understanding of duties to our dead.
And moved by the memory of his friends Jonathan and Saul, King David resolved to honor their close kindred. According to that benevolent nepotism, the lame Mephibosheth supped at the royal table all his days (2 Sam. 9).
These benevolent nepotisms drawn from the divine command of God are things without which our people cannot persist. And conversely, to deny kinship as the hinge on which this door swings is to spurn God’s revelation of the family as His central institution, and His law as given to the family. They work together as a set because God’s Law-Word and the bond of kinship arise from the same Mind: the Logos, perfect coherence.
Coincident with the 500th anniversary of the Reformation, the utter abdication of these things by the institutional church does, in its own way, prove again, and more thoroughly yet, that central Reformational verity that the magisterial church is not the Savior. The administration of fallible men, be they prelates of Rome or presbyters of Westminster, is not infallible. The authority of Mother Kirk is ultimately derivative and valid only insofar as she speaks, acts, and thinks in accord with God’s self-revelational Law-Word.
Realizing, then, the profound corrective hand compelling both the Christian to the defense of our race, and our apostate nationalist kinsmen to return to Christ, let us recall, we’ve wander’d many a weary fit, and tak’ a cup o’ kindness yet for days of auld lang syne; for God is indeed, in His mercy, and in spite of the apparent bleakness of recent days, working all things to the good of those who love Him and proving His ways best. As I type this the clock has just struck midnight on New Year’s. The hour tolls for the Kingdom and for our people. For Christ’s rule establishes our folk, and our people’s hope lies only in His dominion.
Happy New Year, brethren.
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