La Pucelle

A meditation on Joan of Arc and our times.

I can’t figure out who painted this

A letter from Joan of Arc to King Henry VI of England and his advisors

JHESUS MARIA

King of England, and you duke of Bedford, who call yourself regent of the kingdom of France; you, William Pole, count of Suffolk; John Talbot, and you Thomas Lord Scales, who call yourselves lieutenants of the said duke of Bedford, make satisfaction to the King of Heaven; surrender to the Maid who is sent here by God, the King of Heaven, the keys of all the good towns which you have taken and violated in France. 

She is come here by God’s will to reclaim the blood royal. She is very ready to make peace, if you are willing to grant her satisfaction by abandoning France and paying for what you have held. And you, archers, men-at-war, gentlemen and others, who are before the town of Orléans, go away into your own country, in God’s name. And if you do not do so, expect tidings from the maid, who will come to see you shortly, to your very great harm. King of England, if you do not do so, I am a chieftain of war, and in whatever place I meet your people in France, I shall make them leave, and in whether they will it or not. And if they will not obey, I will have them all put to death. I am sent here by God, the King of Heaven, body for body, to drive you out of all France. 

And if they wish to obey, I will show them mercy. And be not of another opinion, for you will not hold the kingdom of France from God, the King of Heaven, son of Saint Mary; for the king Charles, the true heir, will hold it, as is revealed to him by the Maid, he will enter Paris with a good company. If you do not believe these tidings from God and the Maid, in whatever place we find you, we shall strike therein and make so great a tumult that none so great has been in France for a thousand years, if you do not yield to right. Know well that the King of Heaven will send greater strength to the Maid and her good men-at-arms that you in all your assaults can overwhelm; and by the blows it will be seen who has greater favor with the God of Heaven. 

You, duke of Bedford, the maid prays and requests that you do not bring destruction upon yourself. If you will grant her right, you may still join her company, where the French will do the fairest deed ever done for Christianity. Answer if you wish to make peace in the town of Orléans; and if you do not, you will be reminded shortly to your very great harm.

Written this Tuesday of Holy Week (22 March 1429)

Not too bad for an illiterate girl of seventeen in patriarchal medieval France.

For quite some time (and not only because of the Olympics) France has been on my mind, certainly since the Monday of Holy Week 2019 when the grand cathedral of Notre Dame in Paris mysteriously caught fire. To me, that fire was a portent of things to come. As I write in my introduction to Sophia in Exile:

“At the time, I had no idea how prophetic an event the tragic fire at Notre-Dame de Paris on 15 April 2019 would prove to be. It’s a fitting icon for a Church in distress, suffering from the weight of its own corruption, not least the ongoing sex scandals that fill us with shame and anger, evidence as they are of an ecclesial structure inured to the sufferings of its victims and further complicated by the manner in which some of its most powerful leaders have continued to shield their own from scrutiny. These are symptoms of a deeper pathology. The hierarchy’s inept and milquetoasty response to the global pandemic that began in early 2020 only further betrays how indifference has become a cardinal virtue. How many millions died without receiving the last sacraments? How many more left the Church permanently because it was too hard for the hierarchy to live out the Gospel and too easy to play the political sycophant? Did Christ wait until lepers were no longer contagious to heal them?

“It was under these conditions and in this frame of mind that I wrote this book.

“This book, however, is not a jerimiad on the sins and ineptitude of the hierarchy, or even about living through the madness of the pandemic. These things, I think, are only tangential, though nonetheless symptomatic, of a deeper estrangement from the Real that is the true source of our cosmological dissociation, and which has its roots deep in the historical Christian imaginary. This dissociation did not begin with the conflagration of Notre-Dame, nor with the complicity of bishops in the abuses among their ranks. When Christ told Francis of Assisi ‘Rebuild my Church,’ he was not speaking of San Damiano, though that was what Francis thought at the time. Perhaps he was telling us the same thing with the burning of Notre-Dame, for ‘every man’s work shall be made manifest: for the day shall declare it, because it shall be revealed by fire’ (1 Cor 3:13).”

It is now more than five years since the tragic fire at Notre Dame, and, as far as I know, no one has been charged with the crime of arson, nor was there an investigation. Singer Morrissey (of The Smiths fame) wrote a song about it.

Though I am mostly Irish, about a quarter of my DNA is French with a little Native American thrown in (my paternal grandfather was French Canadian). Indeed, my friend, the Irish podcaster Marcas Ó Conghaile Muirthemne, when I finally met him in person last summer, told me I don’t look so much Irish as I do French, and I believe he is correct. That French Canadian DNA is strong.

But, as I said, France has been much on my mind—and so has Joan of Arc.

Just a little less than three weeks ago, another French cathedral mysteriously caught fire, this one at Rouen and also dedicated to Notre Dame (“Our Lady”). Rouen, of course, is the same city in which Joan was burned as a relapsed heretic. There have been many other such incidents over the past decade. What is it with the French Catholic folk soul and fire?

And I haven’t even spoken about that bizarre spectacle in the opening ceremonies of the Olympics this past weekend. I won’t post any links (as you’ve probably already seen it and it repulses me), but there is no doubt that there is a full-out assault—both cultural and spiritual—on the idea of French Catholicism.

I imagine these cathedral burnings and that reprehensible performance over the weekend are meant to demoralize Christians (whether Catholic or not) not only in France but across the West. And while I don’t know exactly who is behind them politically, there is not doubt who is behind them spiritually. The demons, the Archons or Rulers of This World, will not stop until every vestige of Christianity has been obliterated from memory.

The French of Joan’s day were similarly demoralized under English rule. The Dauphin, the de facto ruler of the country, was broke, moping, and depressed watching what was left of his country decay into spiritual and cultural desolation and ennui. Then an archangel appeared to a farmgirl in Domremy.

I imagine if Joan were to show up on the scene today, she would be decried as a “far-right extremist” or “Christian nationalist.” (How would you interpret the words of her letter above?) I also imagine she would be arrested and tried by the authorities (secular in this case), who are as corrupt (and probably more) as the ecclesial authorities who put her on trial and executed her by fire in the fifteenth century.

Indeed, ecclesial and political corruption are also things never far from my mind. Though I still consider myself Catholic in my soul (though, like Goethe, it’s pretty much “a Christianity for my own private use” at this point), I haven’t set foot in a Catholic church since I realized the hierarchy is thoroughly infiltrated and corrupted by the Archons. This became too glaring to ignore in the hierarchy’s response to the Covid crisis and Pope Francis calling getting vaccinated “an act of love”—an act of “love” that has led to the deaths of perhaps millions, ruined the health of many more, destroyed fertility, and, a little closer to home, resulted in my wife’s uterine cancer. So, I’m done with the institution. And though I hold that the true Church is not one made by hands, the great cathedrals of the Middle Ages, now regularly being set to the torch in France (and more recently-built ones in Canada, by the way) represent a nobility of Catholic culture and spirituality that is undeniable. I think we all feel it whenever we walk into one of these extraordinary spaces. That feeling, that sense, that presence—that is the Church I belong to.

Joan was willing to go to war to defend that. And she was willing to die for it. I don’t see much of that kind of courage among the ruins of Christendom right now.

In fact, I think Christian bravery has been neutered, the masculine dimensions of it destroyed and feminized. I know this might sound strange coming from a sophiologist, but it’s true. Without a healthy masculine, there can be no healthy feminine; and we end up in the unisex bathroom of culture not knowing if we should stand or sit.

And now for some real controversy.

In light of all of these things occupying my soul these days, I have been re-evaluating many of the things I have taken as true over the past thirty years or so. One of those is Christian pacifism. I used to think Christian non-violence was the only way to practice Christianity. However, I started to rethink this position as my family grew and I had to consider what I would do in case, say, an intruder broke into my house and started to harm—or even worse—my wife and children. I agonized over this for a good long while, but when I came out on the other side of my anxiety I found myself willing to commit violence—even the ultimate violence, if need be—to defend them. Now I wonder if my Christian pacifism wasn’t just a way to justify my own cowardice. That was not an easy decision to come to. But I am content with it.

Also, in light of the many revelations of how the CIA/FBI or Marxists (now pretty much the same thing) or the Archons or whoever have infiltrated the media (through Operation Mockingbird) as well as the Vatican—and, we can assume, many other institutions (I write about this in my introduction to Guido Preparata’s Empire and Church)—I think we should also question whether or not they have infiltrated groups like Students for a Democratic Society and, even, Pax Christi. I think a reasonable position would be to assume they have. I don’t have any proof of this, of course, but it is worth thinking about. (Let’s face it: they created and entrapped a group of Michigan rednecks—not a term I use disparagingly—to kidnap Gretchen Whitmer; so, they’d do anything.) The thing is, you would think a populace not given to fighting back would be something the Archons desire. Protests—the truckers protest in Canada, the farmer protests in Europe, etc.—just don’t seem to make much of an impact on actual governments or policy. The Archons tolerate them, maybe put on a show of resistance or feign “listening”—and it’s back to corrupt business as usual.

Now I am NOT advocating for any kind of violent uprising. But I think one does need to ask oneself, as is expressed in the film The Untouchables, “What are you prepared to do?” It’s not a question we like to think about, and for obvious reasons.

But Joan thought about it. Most of us simply hope for the best and that things will get better. History is tumid with evidence to the contrary.

But history also attests to the success of Joan of Arc. Though she died, her mission did not die with her; and the English fled France. She was burned as a heretic—though, according to her executioner, her heart refused to be consumed. History also tells us who the real heretics were.

In closing, here is Joan’s letter to the people of Tournai:

+ Jesus + Mary +

Noble loyal Frenchmen of the town of Tournai, the Maiden informs you of the tidings from here: that in eight days she has driven the English out of all the places they held on the River Loire, by assault and otherwise, where there were many killed and captured; and she has defeated them in battle. And know that the Earl of Suffolk, La Pole his brother, Lord Talbot, Lord Scales, and my lord John Fastolf and many knights and commanders have been captured and the Earl of Suffolk’s brethren and Glasdalen are dead. 

Stand fast loyal Frenchmen, I pray you. And [crossed-out word] I pray and request you to be ready to come to the anointing of the noble king Charles at Rheims, where we will be soon. And come to us when you learn that we are approaching. I commend you to God; may God watch over you and grant you grace so that you can maintain the good cause of the Kingdom of France.

Written at Gien the 25th day of June (1429).

A clip from Carl Theodore Dreyer’s film The Passion of Joan of Arc with Richard Einhorn’s sublime oratorio Voices of Light.