 |
| The feast at the end of that road |
When driving about last week in the heartland of our fair nation, the region often called “flyover country,” I found encouragement in the civic and human virtues evident in the fabric of the cities and small towns, the fields and farms through which I rolled with shockingly little traffic to obstruct me. The people I encountered at every stop were remarkably gracious and charitable, which is even better than what most would say: “nice.”
One evening I enjoyed the company of Fr. Clint McDonell (who resided with us from 2012 – 2015) and a couple who are dear friends of his and now mine too, along with the three children who joined their family since I first met them. Fr. McDonell made his justifiably-famous pizzas for us, and we enjoyed a wholesome if somewhat manic convivium at the end of a delightful day together.
But when I got back to my room, I found that a friend from back home had sent me a most disturbing image of a mock Last Supper tableau ripe with foul and disgusting images and actions. It was only days later, as I finished all my visiting and re-entered the wired world, that I learned that this sacrilege had been part of the opening spectacle of the Paris Olympic games.
The reaction had been angry and widespread, more than the organizers expected, so they issued a non-apology of the type that has become so familiar: if anyone was offended, we are really sorry. This puts the onus on the people who chose to be offended, which the nattering nabobs labeled the “Christian right,” lest there be any doubt where the fault lay.
The organizers said their goal was inclusion. That is a lie. Their goal was to attack and to mock the faith of Christians; it is as simple as that. It was offensive like any attack is offensive. It was an attack on the Lord Who revealed His Eucharistic providence and presence at the Last Supper. It is an attack on the Apostles and the Church whose life and practice are instituted in that sacred moment.
Not just the little array of vulgar painted performers, but also the organizers and arrangers, and every level of (government) supervisor and (corporate) sponsor; all of these people have contempt for the Faith and the Church and the Lord Jesus Himself. These people have contempt for you and me and everyone who believes, along with the centurion at the foot of the cross, Truly, this man was the Son of God.
Powerful leaders. Wealthy businesses. The elegant and fashionable famous. The hip artsy crowd. When these people deride what is not only precious but also defining and definitive to you and to me and every believing Christian in the world, they are not sorry that we are offended; that is their goal.
Their other goal is to turn souls away from the Faith and the Church to follow them and the ideology that will devour all who espouse it. The narcissists and libertines whose craving for applause they use to their own advantage similarly work to their own annihilation. Satan was at the Last Supper too, you recall, and he turned one to his way. You also recall where that way led.
The inclusion they espouse in an invitation, maybe even a coercion, to abandon virtue for vice. It is consciously and intentionally an exclusion of right religion and worship of the living God. It is an attack on human freedom, correctly understood.
A healthy society is built by souls committed to grace and charity, rather than the “niceness” that smiles and nods at the foulest self-indulgence. The bonds of family life undertaken and fulfilled in fidelity and selflessness are the best human manifestation of the life and action of God. The meal shared in that covenant is a daily, domestic echo of the communion Jesus instituted at the Last Supper, the dish and the dining He makes clear are essential, not optional, for the life we crave.
In this cynical city, one may hear it said that somebody has “all the right enemies.” It is a political analysis by which one takes a side because of who opposes it. You may well ask, why would anybody enter the communion of the Church in this day and age? Sometimes you find your best friend when you recognize her enemies.
Monsignor Smith
