All Things Bright and Beautiful

At least now we know who they are.

To begin, a couple of announcements…

First, my friend Olivia Chaney’s new album, Circus of Desire, is finally out—and, among other formats, it is available in vinyl! That is so cool. You can find more details on her website or have a listen on Spotify and other fine streaming services. I know she has some gigs coming up in England, so those of you across the waters: be on the lookout.

Also, the cover art for the Angelico Press edition of Novalis’s Christendom or Europe? Arrived yesterday. When I opened the file in the email from my publisher to look at it, it took my breath away.

But to the matter at hand…

Four years ago, you may recall, Easter was canceled by all Christian denominations worldwide—all in the name of “safety” (searches New Testament for evidence of “safe Christianity”). A few rogue communities held out—but some of their leaders were even jailed for opposing the decrees of the Archons. This was not at all like the response of the early Christians, who hid in catacombs and other places to follow their allegiance to Christ. Bishops these days do not seem to be cut from the same cloth—which means that, at the very least, they have abdicated their authority (if it ever existed in the first place). What a devastating moment that was still hasn’t properly really sunk in for most of us—not to mention the surreal and demonic aftermath that followed and continues to unfold. And let’s not forget that a year before these unbelievable events took place another shock to the Christian psyche occurred: the arson of Notre Dame in Paris. Truly, the fire that destroyed the Cathedral of Notre Dame during Holy Week of 2019 proved to be an ill omen for the Catholic Church in particular, and for Christianity writ large. It was the beginning of the end. Here’s Morrissey’s song commemorating the event:

As many of you well know by this point, I have a little (okay, a lot of) residual anger about the canceling of Easter—and the rest of the liturgical year—by churches only too eager to acquiesce to the will of the Archons. But I am thankful for one thing—and I mean this with all sincerity: at least now we know who they are.

Indeed, the arson of Notre Dame in 2019 and the canceling of Easter in 2020 were nothing if not evidence of apocaylpse, revelation, in the truest sense of the word.

For me, and I won’t belabor the point since I have written about it so often, this resulted in turning to house church. In one way, it was out of desperation; but in another way it was a movement of vocation (taken in the etymological sense of “being called to a work”).

Power is a funny thing: it only exists because we surrender our wills and imagination to groups of men and women who are weak of both will and imagination. Once we stop believing in their power, it evaporates like a mirage of water on the road. That’s because this power only exists in our minds and it is only through the rhetorical tools of psychic and psychological manipulation that it can succeed. The real power is in our own wills and imagination; which is to say that power is a matter of magic. They don’t want you to know this. But at least now we know who they are.

The profound movement we observe from Palm Sunday, through the joys and sorrows of Holy Week, the silence of Holy Saturday, and leading to the deep mystery of Easter offers what is certainly the most astonishing affirmation of spiritual truth available to us. And the fulcrum of this movement is always already happening at Golgotha on Good Friday.

As I have written many times over my career, the moment the Blood of Christ touched the earth, the destiny not only of men and women, but of the earth—the planet—itself was irrevocably changed. As Rudolf Steiner often said, the earth was on its way to becoming a dead body, more like the moon, a satellite bereft of life. Christ’s Blood changed that trajectory of earthly existence from death and ossification to burgeoning life and fertility—what Hildegard of Bingen called viriditas, the greening power. The idea of Christ’s Blood permeating and revivifying the earth undergirds all my work with plants and animals on my farm; this notion absolutely consumes me. That is, in my work with the earth, I am really working with the redemptive power of Christ’s Blood. As I am fond of saying, I’m in the redemption business.

The great Eastern Orthodox priest and theologian Sergei Bulgakov also meditated deeply upon the Mystery of Christ’s Blood, which he associates with the legends of the Holy Grail. As he writes in “The Holy Grail: (An Attempt at a Dogmatic Exegesis of John 19:34),”

“Christ’s presence in the earth, his abiding is not a sacrament, for sacraments, despite all their mysteriousness, are always known, since they are linked to a definite place and time. Rather, this abiding is a mystery, the world’s great holy, divine mystery, the world’s treasure, holiness, and glory—the HOLY GRAIL….

“It is not surprising if this mystery, till now still unilluminated by the theological-dogmatic consciousness, has lived only in the obscure presentiments of Christian legend and poetry, in which the holy myth is clouded by human imaginings, by romantic reveries. But at the appropriate time this mystery can take center stage in the Christian world’s consciousness, and then the holy treasure of Montserrat will catch fire with heavenly light and will lead the nations to meet the coming of Christ. The whole world is the Holy Grail, for it has received into itself and contains Christ’s precious blood and water. The whole world is the chalice of Christ’s blood and water; the whole world partook of them in communion at the hour of Christ’s death. And the whole world hides the blood and water within itself. A drop of Christ’s blood dripped upon Adam’s head redeemed Adam, but also all the blood and water of Christ that flowed forth into the world sanctified the world. The blood and water made the world a place of the presence of Christ’s power, prepared for the world for its future transfiguration, for the meeting with Christ come in glory…. The world has become Christ, for it is the holy chalice, the Holy Grail.”

I like to think that the appropriate time for this mystery entering the Christian world’s consciousness is now. In fact, I think it’s long overdue.

But this is a movement of joy, not panic. In the words of the Anglican hymn, the revivifying power of Christ’s Blood literally made “all things bright and beautiful.” And this brightness (it’s no wonder the week following Easter for Eastern Christians is called “Bright Week”) is none other than the sophianic splendor restored. That is, the unfallen Paradise was not destroyed by the Fall of Man; rather, it merely became unavailable to perception, and was thereafter guarded by an angel with a fiery sword—not to protect Paradise, but to Protect those who could not bear its reality. The deed of Christ made it available again—if only we have eyes to see it and ears to hear it. Most of the time, we’re not ready—like Mary Magdalene when she took the Risen One for a gardener. That is, until He spoke her name. Then she could see reality, for she saw the Real.

Even this was a magical act—one in which the voice of Christ corrected the imagination of Mary. For prior to this experience, she was seeing with the eyes of death. And only Christ—the source of all Zoë—can restore that which is dead to life.

There is much in our current cultural milieu that speaks the language of death, that sees with the eyes of death, and hears with the ears of death. Easter is that time of the year when we can again learn to speak the language of life, to see, and to hear the Absolute Real. Because all things are bright and beautiful.

A blessed Easter to you all.