The Eternal Losers and The Power of Christ

Were you as creeped out as I was when you heard that there might be a consecrated host at the Harvard black mass?  While the fight to get it cancelled was totally worthwhile, here’s why you can rest easy tonight regardless of the outcome.

I admit it--when I heard that a Harvard student group was sponsoring a “reenactment” of a satanic ritual involving a potentially consecrated Communion host, I was not only angry, but also a little scared.  After all, Catholics believe that the consecrated host is Jesus—not a symbol or a reminder, but Jesus, truly present, in the flesh and blood.  While we agree with outside observers that the physical characteristics do not change, we believe that on the level of its identity—its substance, to use the theological language—it is truly, really, totally Christ.

So if somebody who hates Christ (or thinks they hate Christ, because if they really knew Him they would almost certainly love Him) gets a hold of one of these consecrated hosts, I start to wretch at the possibilities.  Though I had always brushed such thoughts under the rug of my conscious mind in the past, this Harvard story made that impossible.

Thankfully, God (Who cannot be abused, hurt, or controlled by any of us idiots down here) decided in His mercy and goodness to show me why such worry was unfounded.  Take a look at this post from Elizabeth Scalia’s blog, which talks about why such satanic rituals do not actually possess the power they claim to have:

“Christ gave himself to us, freely, of his own free will. A Gift freely given. If someone takes the Gift and spits on it or whatever — they’re only destroying what was given to them, they are destroying what is ‘theirs.’ They don’t in any way destroy the Giver of the Gift, or lessen the Giver, or the Gift. So they have no power over it, they can’t dominate it. All they can do is destroy themselves within themselves.”

 

The consecrated host is the presence of Jesus, but Jesus is a suffering servant who submitted himself to extreme denigration and humiliation for our sake.  His presence in the Eucharist is that same gift, which we are free to accept or reject.  While desecrating the Eucharist is an outrageously sinful act, it does nothing to injure or even demean God Himself.

Simply put, they have no power over God!  They never could.  And while we’re bashing devil-worshippers, I’ve also always wondered why, if someone believes in God, they would purposely choose to “worship” the guy who got kicked out of Heaven by God.  Purposely picking the loser—isn’t that sort of like choosing to play as Jigglypuff in Super Smash Brothers?  But I digress.

 

Now, mind you, I’m not trying to minimize the reality or power of the devil.  He was created as an angel—which means that, in terms of creation, he’s way more powerful than any of us on our own.  But we have ways of keeping him at bay and protecting ourselves.

I remember the advice I got from someone on the beach in Hawaii: never turn your back on the tide.  If you do, it can kill you.  It’s so easy to write it off as nothing, but people have literally been swept away by creeping tides that unexpectedly descended upon them when they turned their back.  Satan is much the same way.  Always keep one eye on him, and be aware that he is actively trying to mess with you.  Whatever you do, do not write him off as a legend or a myth.  As they say in The Usual Suspects, “the greatest trick the devil ever played was convincing the world that he doesn’t exist.”  Don’t fall for it.  He’s out there, and he doesn’t like you.

But the good news is this:  God has given us a protector who has already once beaten the tar out of Satan, and is totally willing to do it again whenever we call upon him: Saint Michael the Archangel.  This supernatural guardian—who, I contend, must actually be way more ripped and imposing than the girly-man he is usually depicted as—is more than willing to step up and defend us from the devil whenever we ask.  Take a look at the statue pictured below.  Now we're getting somewhere!  That's more the Michael that I believe in.

 

And since, in writing this post debunking his followers’ false power, the devil may be a little extra peeved at me, I finish with this prayer—in which I have complete faith as a means of protection from all the attacks of the evil one:

Saint Michael the Archangel, defend us in battle.  Be our protection against the wickedness and snares of the devil.  May God rebuke him, we humbly pray, and do Thou, O Prince of the Heavenly Host [remember, that means army!], by the power of God, cast into hell Satan and all the evil spirits who prowl about the world seeking the ruin of souls.

Amen.

Now, let’s say it again!

Confidently,

Joezilla

P.S.:  Read the whole post at Elizabeth Scalia’s blog here.

Holy Hill

Today my family and I made our first pilgrimage—excluding our annual trek to the Thanksgiving table, of course. We visited the National Shrine of Mary, Help of Christians, situated atop lofty Holy Hill in Wisconsin. The site is considered by many to be a place of miraculous healings, and a collection of crutches, canes, and leg-braces—abandoned by the recipients of such divine help—attest to the fact. It is certainly a special place, endowed with what seems to us a more direct access to the Almighty.

Today, it was also a bustling place. Crowds flocked to Holy Hill to partake not only of its religious offerings, but also its beautiful autumn colors. For my family, a myriad of adventures contributed to the day’s fullness, and describing any one of them could conceivably take up a sizeable chunk of eternity. However, one aspect of the trip returned to my mind’s eye late in the day, and so—with sincere apologies to the arresting vistas, the dazzling Church positively charged with grace, and the mini-miracle of the vitalizing holy water—I zoom in on one moment of today’s events, which occurred rather early in the itinerary.

We were making the arduous journey up the main hill, climbing uneven wood-framed steps to ascend to the Church’s entrance for 12:30 Mass. I noticed a man on his way down whose build seemed to tell the story of a once-active individual, unfortunately shackled now by an injured leg. With his knee wrapped in some sort of brace, he struggled to limp down the stairs, attended by his wife. At the sight of him a gray cloud of pity and sadness temporarily arose in my thoughts, in spite of the sunny blue skies surrounding us. Had this pilgrim come hoping for a miracle? If so, I sadly reflected, he was now descending the mountain, heading home in the same condition he had arrived. There was no miracle here for him. I turned back to look at him after he had passed by, wished him a silent blessing, and continued on my way.

A little reflection, if performed in the right spirit, can go a long way in dispelling unwelcome gloom. And the maxim stands admirably in this case. Miracles are wonderful occurrences, but they are not guaranteed rewards for belief. Jesus himself acknowledged the hard truth that miracles do not always come when expected: “There were many lepers in Israel during the time of Elisha the prophet; yet not one of them was cleansed, but only Naaman the Syrian” (Luke 4:27). Nor are miracles litmus tests for God’s power—or His love. A faith that could be shattered by the lack of a miracle could be shattered by many other things as well—and strictly speaking, could not be called faith if it relied on the evidence a miracle would provide. But most importantly, miracles come in all shapes and sizes. Even Holy Hill’s website points out that “some healings are gradual while others are dramatic and instant.” I saw that man limping down the steps of Holy Hill at 12:15 today. I did not see him climb into his car. I did not see him eating dinner. I will not see him ten or twenty years from now. But God will, and who can imagine what He might have planned for this man? Remember, we’re talking about the Person Who invented snow. God is the source and summit of creativity.

We humans have a pesky habit of seeing life solely in terms of our extremely limited perspective. That was my failure when I faced that man and thought about his condition. The same failure might attend someone upon hearing about Holy Hill’s unfortunate defacement in 2006. It seems that, moved with the zeal that only the calendar can inspire, a couple of lost souls vandalized Holy Hill’s main Church on June 6, 2006 (aren’t they clever?) with profane graffiti. Of course this is sad news, and rightfully evokes a range of emotions on the part of believers. That said, the one emotion that it should not evoke is fear. Although it might seem natural to shudder at such demonstrations of stark and burning evil, it is actually quite unnatural to fear it. C.S. Lewis has a helpful (and rather hilarious) insight for us here: “A man can no more diminish God's glory by refusing to worship Him than a lunatic can put out the sun by scribbling the word 'darkness' on the walls of his cell.” The same could be said for the walls of a church.

What threat do a handful of anti-social youths pose to the Catholic Church? For that matter, what threat would a vast army of Satan’s followers pose? Even if Catholicism represented a tiny minority within a world of demonic enemies, it would be no less safe, no less serene, than it is right now and always has been. As Simon and Garfunkel so eloquently testified in a rather obscure song, “You can burn down my churches, but I shall be free.” We are people of God, and our hope comes not from the physical well-being of ourselves or our most treasured places and objects, but from the unshakeable, irresistible, unavoidable presence of God, Who created us, lovingly sustains us at every moment, and has promised salvation to all who believe in Him and act accordingly. The desecration (or even destruction, God forbid) of a church does not even graze the supernatural surface of the Church. That is God’s property, upon which no man or spirit may malevolently trespass.

As I said, we tend to see life from limited perspectives. Thankfully, our faith has a way of reminding us that life is so much bigger, so much better, than our fallen natures and tragic experiences lead us to believe. Christianity, though it comes to us in physical forms like Sacraments and miracles, speaks of a truth that lies beyond our world. So even if that man’s leg never heals in this life, he will still be able to meet God in prayer, receive Him in the Eucharist, and thank Him for the blessings gratuitously bestowed with each dawning day. And so can we.

May the blessings of God reach you wherever you are today, and may you happily accept them.

Sincerely,
Joezilla