A Different Kind of Super-Hero

There are few things as disorienting to me as having about 15% of a blog post which I simply MUST write swirling around in my head, while I have no concrete idea what the post is actually about. 

This could get interesting, since I'm not really sure where it's going. Hang on, though - might be someplace good. :)

First thing: I saw this picture the other day. In my head, this picture is captioned: "A different kind of Super-Hero." And I love it. Here, look:

I mean, honestly. You ever feel like that little red kid? I'll admit, I'm not really good at superheroes, I don't even know who he's supposed to be (if you do, feel free to share). But he isn't exactly, ya know, fitting in.

One of the other tumbleweeds in my head are the Catholic baptismal promises. Specifically the beginning part: 

V. Do you reject Satan? 
R. I do. 
V. And all his works? 
R. I do. 
V. And all his empty promises? 
R. I do. 

Empty promises.

It's funny, if I recorded my talks you could probably hear different ideas evolving, and one of the things evolving lately is this theme of Satan's empty promises.

I, being a nerd, like to Google random things. Just now I tried "Satan's empty promises Catholic."

Fun. 

No, really. You should try it, it's fun. I got some good results, like an archived homily from EWTN. I like the way it gets started, quoting paragraph 391 of the CCC: "Behind the disobedient voice of our first parents lurks a seductive voice, opposed to God, which makes them fall into death out of envy..."

"A seductive voice..."

I'm becoming more and more convinced that one of the biggest empty promises of Satan evident in our modern culture is silence. Not the holy silence born of being wrapped in the cloister of Carmel or the weight of the Consecration at Mass...but the godless silence of a people too terrified to speak in the face of grave evil.

One silence comes from being immersed in the Presence of God. 

The other kind of silence comes from elevating an ideal into the place of God and becoming immersed in the filth that surrounds such idolatry of the heart. Tolerance, co-existence, fill-in-the-blank-with-your-choice-of-mush-brain-mealy-mouth-liberal-replacement-words, whatever. 

The "tolerance" being sold by the world today never satisfied anyone's soul, and how could it? Our souls are consumed by a hunger that can only be sated by one Source. There's an older name for turning a blind eye to evil, and it's more correct than what people prefer to call "tolerance" these days: being lukewarm. And, feel free to check Revelation 3:16 on this, being lukewarm is not exactly the kind of behavior which gets a seal of approval from Scripture.

Dietrich Bonhoeffer, one of the most well-known people to meet death in a concentration camp, put it this way: "Silence in the face of evil is itself evil: God will not hold us guiltless. Not to speak is to speak. Not to act is to act."

But not to speak, not to act...it is so very, very easy. We fear offending or hurting others, we fear losing friends, we fear running into trouble. Fear is a great instigator of silence, and fear is spoken to our hearts in a very, very seductive voice.

"But perfect love casts out fear."

I actually looked up what specific verse that is, and it turns out it's 1 John 4:18. Part of the fun of looking up verses is seeing the different translations, and the Douay-Rheims version is a gem: it uses the word "charity" instead of "love". 

Since I've already busted myself on the fact that I'm a nerd and like looking things up, check it out:

I. Like. That.

Just to pick out one of the many things I feel like writing about after I read that, I'll go with the last: "the root and foundation" of all Christian virtues.

I would like to take this moment to remind us all that one of the things the Church requires before recognizing a Saint is proof of their heroic virtue.

Heroic. As in, outstanding. Above and Beyond. Valiant. Stalwart. All aflame.

Virtue.

It is too tempting to resist quoting Chesterton at this moment, so I won't resist: "The act of defending any of the cardinal virtues has today all the exhilaration of a vice."

My friends, what is a Saint, but a different kind of hero? 

Different, that is, than what the world tells us heroes are made of. I mean, hey, I'll watch The Avengers right along with the next person, but seriously, could Ironman really hold up against, oh, say...St. Ignatius of Loyola? 

Ehhh...

Heroic. Virtue.

Virtue that requires the heroism of rejecting Satan's empty promises: silence in the face of grave moral danger, or settling into mediocrity instead of embracing a life that dares to obey the commands of a Savior who "came to set the world on fire".

It's not enough to be a "nice" person. I would seriously doubt the credibility of anyone who ever tried to tell me that Jesus Christ was a "nice man." Nice says "not offensive." 

It doesn't say "hero."

And heroism, my friends, is what is required of us. So let's do it. Let's be that different kind of hero, the ones that don't "fit in" with this culture. 

I think a great place to start might be throwing ourselves into some of that Holy Silence, sinking into the Ocean of Mercy that is the Presence of Christ in the Eucharist. Swim in those depths and you cannot help but catch that holy fire, the fire of Christ's love which He meant for us to spread. In His Presence we will not be able to resist being pierced by the agony of the love that drove the saints to the heroism which springs from that Divine Source. 

The silence that comes from love of Christ will teach us to reject the empty promises of a fear-full silence, and His grace will enable us to respond heroically, as someone like St. Francis Xavier did when he was told to "Go, and set all afire."

"The Noise of the Crusade"

The rest of the story...

Now that his Holy League crusade was in motion, the Pope called for a second crusade: one of prayer, particularly the Rosary. He entrusted this naval crusade to the care of the Blessed Virgin, and insisted that the men of the Holy League and all faithful Catholics unite in this powerful prayer.

“In that enormous silence, tiny and unafraid,

Comes up along a winding road the noise of the Crusade.

Strong gongs groaning as the guns boom far,

Don John of Austria is going to the war.”

Each ship carried a priest, every soldier was given a Rosary, and one of the commanding officers carried in his cabin a fascinating portrait: a copy of the image of Our Lady of Guadalupe which had been touched to the original tilma, at that time barely 40 years old. 

The entire Holy League had placed itself under the protection of the Blessed Virgin.

In spite of the vast differences between the thousands of men he was given to command, John somehow managed to maintain his authority. Arguments over tactics began to shift into a firmness of purpose when the Holy League stopped briefly at the port of Corfu, and found it recently ravaged by the Ottomans. The atrocities they witnessed in the wake of Islamic destruction helped solidify their alliance, which increased as reports of other atrocities in nearby Cyprus and Famagusta made their way to the Christian ships. 

The Holy League drew closer to the Ottoman fleet, and on the morning of October 7, they began to draw themselves into position for the great confrontation, in the gulf of Lepanto.

Something that's important to remember at this point are the ships: galleys, massive vessels powered either by sails when there was a favorable wind, or men with oars when there was not. And the Ottoman ships were rowed by Christian slaves. 

“Christian captives sick and sunless, all a labouring race repines

Like a race in sunken cities, like a nation in the mines.”

Another important thing to keep in mind is that with naval battles at that time, the ships didn't simply sit and shoot their cannons at one another. They came side-by-side, boarded one another, and then engaged in bloody hand-to-hand combat.

So, the morning of October 7th, there was a lot of wind. And all of it was in favor of the Ottoman ships. Which meant the Christian ships were rowing, and they didn't have any extra slaves to do it. John of Austria was being taken back and forth along the line of ships in a little rowboat, shouting encouragement and making epic Aragorn-like speeches to the men. 

The Christians, standing silent as their priests were giving blessings and general absolution, could hear the Ottoman fleet screaming across the gulf, the wind carrying every blood-thirsty shriek straight to their ears. And they were coming closer all the time.

Then, the wind died. Completely.

For a few moments there was utter stillness.

Then the wind returned, but it had completely reversed its course. The wind now came directly at the back of the Christian fleet. Flags bearing the names of Jesus and Mary spread in the breeze, men who had been rowing sprang up and were armed, and the Ottoman ships scrambled to drop their sails as the Christian slaves below their decks were forced to begin rowing.

When the two fleets crashed into one another head on, the Christian slaves began an uprising, a riot from the very center of the Ottoman forces, and between these freed slaves and the Holy League men, by late afternoon everything was over.

“Scarlet running over on the silvers and the golds,

Breaking of the hatches up and bursting of the holds,

Thronging of the thousands up that labour under sea

White for bliss and blind for sun and stunned for liberty.”

Holy League casualties: 8,000 dead, about 16,000 wounded, 12 ships sunk.

Ottoman casualties: about 8,000 dead, several thousand captured, 50 ships sunk, 117 ships captured. 

Miles and miles and days of travel away, in Rome, Pius V was in the middle of a financial meeting the afternoon of October 7. Suddenly he stood up, strode over to the window, and stared out of it for a long time. Turning after a while, he announced, "This is not a moment for business; make haste to thank God, because our fleet this moment has won a victory over the Turks." Pius V had seen the victory in a vision, and afterwards declared October 7 the feast of Our Lady of Victory, giving credit where it was due.

So…why is this so exciting to me?

Well, uh, if you’re not the tiniest bit inspired by all of that, I honestly don’t know what to tell you. Lepanto is, to me, a lesson for every Christian in every time. The beauty of it pierces the heart with the truth that is captured in 2 Chronicles 7:14:

“If then My people, upon whom My name has been pronounced,

humble themselves and pray, and seek My face and turn from their evil ways,

I will hear them from heaven and pardon their sins and heal their land.”

Is there anything we need more than this, right now? Humility, prayer, seeking God’s face, turning from evil ways, pardon for our sins and healing for our land? 

Lepanto proves God keeps His end of this promise when we respond to the call. 

Lepanto proves that even the nameless, the outcast, the weak, and the broken can become a glorious vessel for God’s grand designs. 

Lepanto even shows the way to make all of this a reality: trust in the care and intercession of the Blessed Virgin, whose task is always to bring us closer to Her Son, and deeper into the mysteries of God’s mercy.

"Dim drums throbbing..." in which I begin to geek out.

"I love October."

I keep hearing that around lately, and usually people are saying it in reference to the (slightly) changing weather we Texans supposedly experience about this time.

Well, I actually do love October, for a straight-up-Catholic-NERD reason: ya'll, there are some pretty epic feast days.

St. Therese, the Guardian Angels, St. Francis of Assisi...and, my personal favorite, October 7th.

I say the date instead of the name, because the date is pretty essential to understanding why, exactly, I happen to totally geek out about this feast. The name of the feast has actually changed before, and the current title is a tad long-winded: The Memorial of Our Lady of the Rosary.

Formerly known as Our Lady of Victory.

So-called because of the Battle of Lepanto.

(I am now making my EXCITED NERD face, but you can't see it, so I thought I would just let you know.)

All right, all right - some of you are now wondering "What the heck IS Lepanto, anyway?"

I'ma try and un-complicate that explanation. It’s kinda long but totally worth it, read it in sittings if you have to. In fact, I'm even doing this in two parts again, to break it up a little. You should know about this. To keep you interested in the history lesson, there are little italicized snippets of Chesterton’s Lepanto, which is EPIC, and which you should read if you ever get the chance.

The year was 1571. Which meant there were basically two world powers: Christendom, and the Ottoman Empire.

The Ottoman Empire was the name used to refer to the forces of Islam, and they were not interested in peace. They were in for total domination, and they were on a roll. The crescent flag had been edging its way toward Europe at a seemingly unstoppable pace, and the method used thus far had been simple: convert to Islam, or die. They had desecrated countless sanctuaries, murdered ruthlessly, and enslaved thousands of Christians: women and boys were sent to the harems, men to the ships as galley-slaves. 

Christendom was falling apart, because it was no longer the alliance of Catholic monarchies it had been. Lutheranism had been raging across the continent for nearly 60 years, and Elizabeth was developing what would be known as Anglicanism in Britain. The throne of France was occupied by a Catholic-in-name only Charles IX, while the country was actually ruled by his mother, a woman described as "Macchiavellian." Spain was ruled by Philip II, who was Catholic, but very much preoccupied with maintaining the empire his father had left him, including the Spanish claims in the New World. Venice was also a great power at the time, especially on the sea, but they were very protective of their individuality and independence.

The man sitting on the Chair of Peter in Rome, Pius V, saw all of this with alarming clarity. He knew the only response, and he made it: a call for a new crusade. But this crusade would not be to the Holy Land, this crusade would go to meet the forces of Islam in a place many had begun to consider them unbeatable: at sea.  Pope Pius V called all of Christendom's rulers to send men and ships to join a Holy League and stop the Ottomans before they could set foot on the soil of Europe. 

“And the Pope has cast his arms abroad for agony and loss,

And called the kings of Christendom for swords about the Cross.”

The response was, shall we say, less than enthusiastic.

Everyone else had their own problems, and most of them felt they still had plenty of distance from the problem. But a series of Islamic atrocities galvanized Europe into action, and the task of choosing a commander for the patchwork Holy League fleet fell to the Pope.

One shudders to imagine the politics involved.

But with a brilliance inspired by the Holy Spirit, Pius V selected a man without a nationality, a great name, or even a real family: John of Austria. 

“Dim drums throbbing, in the hills half heard,

Where only on a nameless throne a crownless prince has stirred,

Where, risen from a doubtful seat and half attainted stall,

The last knight of Europe takes weapons from the wall.”

John of Austria was the illegitimate half-brother of the King of Spain. They shared a father, but John's mother was Austrian and he had partly been raised in that country before being transplanted to the Spanish royal court, where his royal half-family could keep a close eye on him. Illegitimate half-bloods were not allowed a lot of leeway. 

But John, in spite of the level of distrust with which he tended to be treated, turned out to be handsome, charming, popular, a fairly devout Catholic, and very loyal to his half-brother King. 

Age at the time he was tapped by the Pope to command the Holy League: 24.

And THEN things got interesting.

The rest of the Lepanto-geek-out-history-lesson will be continued tomorrow. If you're still reading...