Some months ago I said I was giving up this blogging lark, and then for some reason had a big spike in my viewing figures. Vainglory then seduced me into continuing, although my original decision has been justified in that I haven't produced anything substantial. Every time I think of writing something here these days, I have something else more pressing to do. Also, I am not that interested in writing about news, ecclesiastical or political, any more. The silliness in Westminster and Washington, in Fleet Street, in the papal court and at the Synod is relentlessly tedious and I have stopped even reading about it all; I think that the best course for people like myself who have no earthly influence over these events is to form islands of Tradition and get on with it. In this - I will spare you the details - my own efforts have been not very fruitful thus far, but there is nothing to do except get on with it. Chesterton's Ballad of the White Horse has long been a favourite. The title of this post is the vision of Mary who says to Alfred that "the men signed of the cross of Christ / Go gaily in the dark", and then follows this with the very comforting words:
you have wars you hardly win
And souls you hardly save.
I tell you naught for your comfort,
Yea, naught for your desire,
Save that the sky grows darker yet
And the sea rises higher.
The other things I would like to blog about, i.e. Christian Neoplatonism, monarchy, Goethean science, Hooker and the Anglican divines: well, a friend told me that the amount of time and effort that I would put into writing pieces worth reading would be better spent researching something substantial, and I think he is right. I won't delete the blog, as some few of the posts that were actually informative to some degree (e.g. those on the Anglican Breviary, the Anglican Missal, and Margaret Barker's Temple Theology) seem to be attracting traffic even yet.
Please friends, don't give up. There is a high and holy calling to be exercised in the middle of our own bathos and misery: the Cross is for us too. The words of Christ, asking if he will find faith on the earth when he comes, haunt me. And come he will.