Cape Henry and the Triumph of “Plan C”

This weekend we celebrate the 400th anniversary of the landing at Cape Henry, the first enduring landfall of English settlers in the New World.  On 29 April 1607, a group from the Virginia Company landed and, led by their Anglican chaplain Robert Hunt, prayed for the establishment and propagation of the Christian religion in the land they had just landed in.

But wait a minute.  Didn’t the Pilgrims come to Plymouth thirteen years later for that purpose?  And what about the Puritans further up the coast in Massachusetts Bay Colony?  How did the Anglicans get the drop on this?  Why, in less than two centuries, did the colonies that made the Church of England the state religion dump it in favour of a state without any kind of official church?  What happened to the Puritans’ vision of a "shining city on a hill" built on their own Calvinistic theology and theonomy?

Too much knowledge leads to too many questions.  The basic problem is that Hunt’s Anglicans in Virginia and the Puritans up the coast didn’t come to establish one country, or one colony for that matter.  Their differences reflected the religious struggle that would consume the "old country" during the seventeenth century, and would affect the English colonies in the New World, both when they were colonies and when then went "from many to one" (E Pluribus Unum) as the United States of America.

As we’ve remarked before, the "Elizabethan Settlement" that set the Church of England on a stable course was meant to provide England with a Christian religion that was broad-based in many senses.  To accomplish this, church and state felt it necessary to exclude two extremes: Roman Catholicism and extreme Calvinism, such as the Scots practiced.  The former were fairly easy to keep out, for a while at least.  The latter weren’t, especially when James I became King and the Scots became part of the realm.  Some of them couldn’t wait for the Church of England to get around to "reforming" itself, thus Plymouth and the Massachusetts Bay Colony, where they could put their various visions of a pure Christian state into practice.

Before that, however, English businessmen looked to the New World for profit, just as the Spanish had done for more than a century.  They formed various companies to carry out their business plan, packing along chaplains like Robert Hunt, who proved invaluable in keeping the travellers on an even keel.  This pattern–or variations on it–was repeated for the rest of the Southern colonies.  The biggest blight on the whole enterprise was the importation of African slaves, one which they did because they understood the nature of the usual labour force.

From here, things went in different directions on both sides of the Atlantic.

Back home, the conflict between Roundhead Puritan and Cavalier ended in the English Civil War, with both Charles I and William Laud losing their heads.  But Cromwell and the Roundheads couldn’t sustain their victory, something modern theonomists should take note of.  The Church of England became the guardian of religious stability through the enforcement of religious mediocrity, a state interrupted occasionally by movements such as Methodism, the Evangelical movement and even the Oxford Movement.

In the colonies, both Virginia and Massachusetts visions were diluted by the formation of alternative refuges for religious dissenters such as Pennsylvania (Quakers) and Maryland (Roman Catholics.)  This was assisted by the English policy of exporting their malcontents to their overseas possessions, be they religious dissenters, debtors or criminals.  (The French and Spanish would not allow theirs to do the same in their own empires, be they Jansensist, Huguenot or Jew.)

But the biggest upsetter of the "apple cart" of religions in the colonies were the Celtic rowdies who emptied the fringes of the British Isles and settled along the spine of the Appalachians, challenging the Church of England (and everybody else) on its new "home turf" in the New World.  It was they who made the most direct challenge to an established religion, which led to the First Amendment and a level playing field for all religious beliefs to thrive in the new nation.

But it was also they who helped to change the nature of Christianity itself, and to do what the Anabaptists in Europe couldn’t: make it a voluntary association of believers rather than an expression of the sovereign’s belief or national culture.  Such was a break both from the Anglicanism of the Southern colonies but in reality was also a break from the "Geneva on the Charles" that the Puritans aimed to establish.  That voluntary aspect is the reason why Christianity in the U.S. has taken such deep roots, roots that have had to withstand a secular onslaught from on high the last half century or so.

Today, everyone talks freedom but aims for coercion.  Liberals talk of "diversity" but insist on quotas and litmus tests, unleashing the politics of personal destruction on those who disagree.  Conservatives talk of our freedoms as Americans but dabble in theonomy or wartime "neo-con" authoritarianism, ignoring what would happen if they have the misfortune to lose power altogether.  Such are the ways of boomers and, as we’ve said before, the Republic’s #1 priority is to survive this generation.

So what can we make of the Cape Henry landing?  For Americans in general, it is a reminder that our country was founded with a religious people (and the personal discipline that goes with that) in mind.  The exercise of freedom goes hand in hand with the assumption of responsibility and the accountability that goes with it.  What better accountability is there than an eternal one to God Himself?  Those who belittle that role say in effect that they would rather manipulate a mob than lead a nation, and the results are entirely different.

For Anglicans, it is a reminder of an important truth that is being rediscovered: that Anglicanism, rather than being a simple "middle of the road" or place for prayer of the overmoneyed, was and can be a positive way in its own right.  They should not allow us to forget that, when Robert Hunt celebrated the Holy Communion, he did so using the 1559 Book of Common Prayer, with all of its liturgical flourishes.  Anglicanism paved the way towards liberating American Christianity from the rigid Augustinianism that plagued Europe, certainly more so than the Calvinistic Puritanism further up the coast.  That liberation has altered the course of Christianity–and the eternities of many along the way–in ways that few fathom even today.  It is the "Plan C" that neither Anglican nor Puritan could foresee.

So it’s time to celebrate.  Although we’ve had echoes of the English Civil War in our own, the country that came out of these settlements is the absolute triumph of none of them but the synergistic triumph of all of them and those who came after to make "one nation under God."  Will it remain that?  If it doesn’t, it won’t remain at all.

The Children of Hurin: Tolkien’s Christian Roots

Asia Times Online’s "Spengler’s" review of J.R.R. Tolkien’s "newest" (actually oldest, and edited by his son Christopher) The Children of Hurin is a reminder of the deep roots of Tolkien’s Christianity from a source outside of the normal track of Christian writers, and we commend it to our readers.

We should note, however, that this story in itself and this part of Tolkien’s mythology is covered in other parts of his work, including The Silmarillion.

At the Inlet: September, Part 1 (A Surprise Family)

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The turn of the month was framed by two weighty events: a tropical storm on the windward side which had about the same effect as the hurricane a few weeks earlier, and on the lee side Terry’s birthday.  Since it was a milestone, Terry regarded its coming about as positively as she did the tropical storm.

Annette and Darlene extended birthday wishes during their Bible study, but that was about it.  Darlene didn’t mention it further during their work.  About 1545 Darlene suddenly announced that their workday was at an end, that she should go see Julian before Evening Prayer.  Terry was mystified by this quick dismissal but had learned to let things ride in this place, so she did as she was bid and went over to the Cathedral.

When she got there, Julian was up in the choir rehearsal room giving private piano lessons.  He taught a limited number of students to supplement his meagre income from the Cathedral.  Terry quietly came in and sat down as he was winding up an initial lesson to a young boy who was with his younger sister and mother.  The mother was Chinese, her children mostly so.  As they were changing children on the piano bench, Julian stopped and introduced them to Terry.

“This is Jasmine Liu,” Julian said, introducing the mother, “and these are Eric and Katherine.”  The children bowed slightly at Terry.  “This is their first lesson here—they’ve just moved from the mainland.”

“Nice to meet you,” Jasmine said.  “My husband is an engineer.  He has just starting with Serelian government—first engineer in the country,” she noted proudly.  His father, mother and grandmother are here—they were retired, but they are now opening a restaurant.”

“A pleasure—your children are adorable,” Terry said.

“Thank you,” Jasmine replied.  This whole scene threw more questions at Terry than she could easily process.  Why didn’t someone tell me that Chinese people were coming to Serelia?  Why hadn’t I seen the charter application for her restaurant?  Why didn’t I know who the engineer on this sewage treatment project was?  Why does her name sound familiar?

These questions were shoved aside when Katherine started her lesson.  She went over to the bench, crawled up, and began to play a Bach piece, her last audition piece.  Terry was blown away by the professionalism of this six-year old as she sat in awe through the performance.  Even Julian couldn’t conceal his shock from the quality of this little concert, even though he related later he had just seen a similar one out of Eric.  Julian then spent much of the rest of the lesson setting up her curriculum and digging through what he had and what Eric had been using, as getting music pedagogy materials in Serelia wasn’t a simple matter.

“What is your profession?” Terry asked Jasmine, as the lesson was wrapping up.

“I was a music major,” Jasmine replied.  “I gave private lessons before moving here.  But Reverend Lewis’ has great reputation as organist and music teacher.  Perhaps I will teach later.”

“We went to the same school,” Julian interjected.  “Obviously at different times.”

“When does your husband’s parents’ restaurant open?  I haven’t eaten Chinese food in years.  My grandmother is Chinese.”

Jasmine lit up.  “It opens tomorrow, but for you and Reverend Lewis, you can come by this evening.  When can you come?”

“About 1900,” Julian replied.

“We will see you then,” Jasmine confirmed, and with that, took one child in each hand and left.

Terry came over to Julian, and they embraced and kissed.  “Now let’s see what you can do on the piano,” Julian said.

“Oh, no, not after that,” Terry replied, backing up a step.

“Please, Terry—what happens is between ourselves.  Really,” he said.

Terry thought for a minute, and then said, “All right, but just for a minute.”  She sat down at the piano; Julian could tell she was tensing up as she faced the keyboard.  Julian sat down in his teaching chair.  She rolled through her mind her last audition pieces, then tried to plough into one.  Her plough got stuck; the result wasn’t very melodious and she ground to a halt.

“I can’t!” she exclaimed in frustration.

Julian reached over to her left arm  “If you can survive this”—he pointed to the drug scars on her lower arm—“and this”—he pointed to the war wound on her upper arm—“then you can master this.”  He placed his hand gently on the keyboard.

“God brought me through that,” Terry said.

“I’m not aware that God has changed since our war was concluded,” Julian calmly asserted.  Terry looked at her love with a combination of anger and fright, but both were subsiding.  “Now let’s see where we can begin,” he said, gently repositioning her fingers on the keyboard.

This lesson, however, did not last long; Julian had to prepare for Evening Prayer, which Terry spent beside him on the organ, as was her custom.  After that they walked down past the Inn to the restaurant.

They entered the restaurant.  The sign on the front proclaimed the “Tian Guo Chinese Restaurant.”  It was dark inside; Terry couldn’t see a thing with her eyes unadjusted from the light.  Suddenly she heard a cry from somewhere in the room: “My baby!”  It was Ling Shu-Yi, her grandmother.  Terry gasped, then ran over and gave her a tearful embrace.  “I never thought I would see you again,” Shu-Yi said through the sobs.

“Neither did I,” Terry agreed.  After some time Shu-Yi reintroduced Terry to her relatives: Terry’s aunt Evelyn and her husband Victor Liu, their son Paul Liu and of course his wife Jasmine and the children.  Terry felt a void in her life being filled when a familiar voice came from behind.

“Happy birthday!” exclaimed George, and with him not only Darlene but Adam and Annette as well.  It suddenly hit Terry that the royal family had not only planned a surprise birthday party for her; they had kept secret the entry of her Chinese relatives as well.

The party was a blast; Adam and Annette had never eaten Chinese food before, so they were in for a treat.  There was a lot to catch up on; Terry hadn’t seen her grandmother or aunt on her father’s side since her father had died.

“Why did you pick Serelia?” Terry asked Paul.  “This is a very remote place for someone living on the mainland.”

“It was my mother,” Evelyn answered.  “She has wanted to see you for years.  After your brother was killed, she said she could not bear the thought of dying without seeing you, or perhaps living near you again.  She made our lives miserable for this.”

“I had done work in Alemara for my old firm,” Paul added.  “They told me about this position.  Not only did my grandmother persist, but also I wanted to raise my children in a good place.  I hear that people are filial here.”

“They are that,” Terry agreed.

The Chinese also got a chance to meet Julian; they did not pass up the opportunity to work on moving things forward with Terry.

After dinner the Chinese gave them yet another treat: a concert on traditional Chinese instruments, which was a strong family tradition of the Liu’s.  As a musician, Julian was fascinated by the instruments and the music.  Much of what they played was sad; as they sat and listened, the sadness of their own Island experience came up, and, like the Chinese official of old, they found themselves moistening whatever they could dry their eyes with.  The music also drew a crowd outside, none of whom had heard such playing before.

It was a hard departure; the royals did it first.  Before she left, Annette could not resist the obvious question for Shu-Yi: when could she come to the palace for a game of mah-jongg?  She quickly found she had more than one new opponent.  As Julian and Terry were about to leave, Victor had one more request for Terry.

“When we start in new building,” he began, “we like to consult with feng shui expert for most auspicious layout.  But Miss Ling says that we don’t need feng shui here.  She says that, if you pray for this restaurant, we won’t have any problems.  Since she is oldest among us, we listened to her.”  Terry looked at her grandmother wide eyed; Shu-Yi grinned back.

“Very well,” Terry responded.  She got out her anointing oil and anointed the building the same way she had the study where she did her work with Darlene.  Julian, Jasmine and Shu-Yi joined in.  Once this task was done they made their farewells and returned to their homes.

The next day it was back to work for Terry and Darlene. They had gotten far enough and processed enough applications so that they could do two things.  One was propose to the King a more systematic method of dealing with minor charters so as not to bog down the royals when they could be dealing with the more important matters.  The second was to hear appeals of the charters where the results did not please those making application.  It was decided that George and Darlene would hear most of these together; the King reserved a few for himself.  This still involved Terry and Darlene getting the appeals ready for the hearing.

Before all that was Bible study. Annette came and she was almost as excited about the new arrivals as Terry was.  But she had things other than immigrants and charters on her mind.

“I think I’ve about heard enough of the Canon’s snide remarks about Pentecostals from the pulpit,” Annette began.  “He’s been making them every Sunday since you returned from Julian’s tour.”

“So have I,” Darlene agreed.  “That’s why I told him last Sunday he should keep his opinions of royal appointments to himself.”

“That was rather abrupt,” Annette observed.

“We all know who he’s aiming at,” Darlene said.

“So what was George’s reaction to that—Desmond is his friend,” Terry asked.

“He’s said very little,” Darlene replied.

“It may be just ‘mother’s instinct,’ but I think my son’s enthusiasm for the Canon has cooled of late.”  She took a sip of her coffee.  “But that leads me to a question for you, Terry.”

“And what is that?”

“Your old church is very conservative in many ways, isn’t it?”  Annette asked.

“I think the proper term is ‘fundamental,’” Terry answered.  “Our teachings state the we believe the Bible is the inerrant Word of God, ‘rightly divided.’  That’s an old phrase to mean when it is properly interpreted.”

“It certainly has some very restrictive ideas about apparel,” Darlene observed.

“But that’s the problem,” Annette said.  “Your church is conservative in ways ours isn’t, and yet your church ordains women.  Ours doesn’t.  Why is that?”

Terry sat and thought for a minute, then began.  “Julian has asked me the same question.  I guess the best way to answer it is to go back and explain how I was ordained in the first place.

“Father Avalon was preparing me to be a lay minister—a youth pastor, a lay theologian, or something along those lines.  Those were the best he could hope for, since the Catholic Church, like this one, doesn’t ordain women.  I think he wanted to eventually send me to the parish in Alemara, but he was sidetracked.”

“By what?” Darlene asked.

“When the Retreat was started, there were actually two groups of people—the students like me, and the adults, who were in a prayer group he led.  Once we got to the retreat, there was a great deal of conflict between the two, which almost sank the whole adventure.  The adults ended up moving away from the Retreat, either to Alemara, the mainland, or in a couple of cases back to Verecunda.  Unfortunately they also financed the purchase of the Retreat, so for many years they kept their influence.  One of the more influential couples was Steve Eck’s parents.  Steve wanted to become a priest, and his parents very much wanted to see this, but we had dated off and on.  His parents were afraid I would romance him to marry me and end his priesthood before it started.”

“Given recent events, a justifiable fear,” Annette observed.  They all laughed at that observation.

“They were even afraid I would seduce him if I were to have a position in a parish with him when he returned to the Island.  They tried to accuse me of mishandling the money, but they couldn’t make that stick.  Then they convinced Father Jim to send me to Cresca, figuring I would either fail, or be arrested by Serelian authorities, or marry.  To make sure one of these happened, they cut off support after I got there.”

“So you were abandoned—just like you were in Barlin after the war,” Darlene said.

“More or less,” Terry agreed.  “Once I made my decision, I had no problem working for the church in Cresca.  But then it finally sunk in that, when Martin Lindell said that he was ‘setting me forth in the ministry,’ he meant ordaining me.  I was in shock; my first question was, ‘How can you ordain women given all of the scriptures to the contrary in the New Testament?’”

“And what did he say?” Annette asked, eagerly.

“‘We’ve always done it that way!’” Terry replied, the room bursting out with laughter.

“It’s the Serelian way,” Darlene observed.

“Seriously, he explained that, since the beginning of the modern Pentecostal movement in places such as Topeka, Azusa Street and Camp Creek, women had always been ministers.  In what was then the Crescan Pentecostal Fellowship, women neither served as superintendents nor voted at the camp meeting, although I ended up for a time as provisional superintendent when the Barlin District was created.  Other than those restrictions women were permitted to pastor, evangelise and even marry people, and I did plenty of all of that.

“Although I went ahead and was ordained, that didn’t settle the Biblical issues that I had.  So I did some research, talked with people in the church, and prayed about it.  This in brief was the position of our church on the matter.

“First, women in ministry are not viable without the Pentecostal experience.  On the first day of Pentecost, Peter quoted Joel in saying that ‘your sons and daughters will prophesy.’  Now prophecy is a very high gift of God; it is one of the sign gifts, along with healing, miracles, and the like.

“Second, it was God’s intent at the start for men and women to be equal partners; it was only our first mother’s cupidity that got us into trouble.  Jesus Christ came as the last Adam to undo the mistake of the first; that’s what Christianity is all about.

“Third, women held positions of leadership—deacons, and apostles, depending on interpretation—in the age of the apostles. This was shunted aside in later years for two reasons.  The first were due to the mistakes of the women themselves.  The second was due to the demands of respectability, which ran against women in authority in the Roman world.”

“The Serelian world isn’t much different in that regard,” Annette wistfully observed.  “This war has done more than anything else to change that.”

“But in my opinion the most important ingredient for successful ministry by women is the whole concept of servant leadership.  I found it distasteful enough that men used Diotrophes—who always loved the pre-eminence—as their role model in ministry, but with a woman such behaviour is a real disaster.”  Terry turned to Darlene.  “Look at yourself—the way you got your people on the estate to follow you is to stay up with Althea’s daughter all night.”

“It was a reflex,” Darlene confessed.  “I couldn’t help but stick with her.  It wasn’t the last thing either—I helped their children with their homework and stuck up for them in a wide variety of ways.”

“But they made running the estate a lot easier,” Terry observed.  “That’s the way a woman especially can have a successful ministry.”

“And that brings something else to mind,” Annette interjected.  “Don’t Pentecostal churches do foot washing, like Our Lord did on Maundy Thursday?”

“They do,” Terry replied, a little surprised by the question.

“So how did that work?” Darlene asked.

“We did it during a church service.  We would gather the men in one place and the women in another, get basins of water—we always liked to use washtubs in Barlin—and everyone would wash everyone else’s feet.  We had some very moving times together during foot washing—it’s considered on par with baptism and the Lord’s Supper in the Drahlan church.”

Annette and Darlene looked at each other, and then Darlene reached over and pressed the button that summoned Althea.  Althea came in promptly, bowed and said, “Yes, Your Highness?”

“I need you to bring a pitcher of water and a wash basin,” Darlene ordered.

“And ask Lydia to come and do likewise,” Annette added.

“Don’t forget the towel,” Terry threw in.

“Yes, Your Highness,” Althea said, and, bowing, left.  She returned with the pitcher, wash basin and Annette’s lady-in-waiting Lydia in a few minutes.

“And what does Your Majesty require?” Lydia asked very formally.

“We’re having a foot washing ceremony here—and we request that both of you stay for it.”  Lydia looked at her mistress with a look of sheer horror—she had been in Pentecostal churches most of her life and knew what was about to happen.  Althea was too Anglican to know any better.

“Your Majesty,” Lydia finally choked out, “I have never been at a foot washing with royalty before.  I am to bow to you—how can you wash my feet?”

“Why don’t you stick your feet in the water and find out for yourself?” Darlene finally asked, matter-of-factly.

“So how does this work?” Althea asked, still a little mystified at the whole process.  With that, Terry gave them a little instruction and then they set themselves up for washing feet.

The washbasins of the palace were an improvement over the galvanised washtubs of Barlin, but the Spirit was the same.  Those that could speak in tongues did, and it was especially emotional when the Queen, none too agile, got down and washed her lady-in-waiting’s feet along with everyone else’s.  The women alternated between washing feet and praising God for a good part of the morning, and it was difficult to get back to any kind of routine after that.

Virginia Tech, The Supreme Court: Counting on the System?

To be honest, I haven’t said anything about the Virginia Tech massacre because I wasn’t sure what to say.  Best to start brain before engaging mouth (or keyboard.)

However, it’s becoming obvious that the "system" had considerable warning of what was going on in Cho Seung-Hui, both before and on the day of the massacre.  It’s also obvious that "the system" dropped the ball at various points.

The usual response (in this country at least) is to change the system "so this will never happen again."  This assault on the status quo will extend from whittling down (or eliminating) Second Amendment rights to more intrusive snooping in people’s lives.  Sooner or later Congress (the opposite of progress) will get involved.  But two things need to be kept in mind in all of this excitement:

  1. You first need to see if existing procedures were followed before you change them.  A good example of fixing what wasn’t really broken is Sarbanes-Oxley, and now Europe/Russia trades more in securities than we do for the first time since the Great War.
  2. You need to realise that the "system" isn’t perfect.  It is made up of people who make mistakes both in setting the system up and in execution of their duties within it.  That’s why, as a Christian, I keep hammering at the importance of trusting a Saviour rather than an institution for what’s really important in this life and the life to come, be it church, state, or otherwise.  That means any institution.

Note: after we wrote this piece, it was pointed out that many of the laws that exist tie universities’ hands in dealing with students such as Cho.  This is an interesting point, but the problem again is thoughtless changing of the "system" in the past. Years ago colleges and schools were in loco parentis, but this went out with the Sixties, an era when many problems that weren’t "broke" were "fixed."   The system isn’t perfect.  It’s human.

Perhaps the best way to respond is to have Congress and our state legislatures engage in a "repeal session," where they can’t pass laws, only repeal them.

We don’t doubt that pro-life activists will be dancing the streets over the recent Supreme Court decision to allow the ban on partial birth abortions.  We will doubtless hear some triumphalistic rhetoric about our country "coming back to God" and the like.

There’s no doubt that this was the right decision.  Abortion should have never become a constitutional issue in the first place, although doing so has handed the conservatives a fabulous issue the last third of a century.  But it’s too early to tell whether this is the trend or just an aberration.  That depends upon the continued course of Supreme Court nominations, and that in turn depends upon the next election cycle.

Once again confidence in "the system" needs to be tempered.  The system got us into this mess at a time when our nation was supposed to be closer in time to its traditional values (it wasn’t, but that’s another story altogether.)  And, of course, we need to continue working on other issues to insure that our defence of life isn’t just to produce people whose main earthly purpose is to support and humour left-wing bureaucrats.

What It Takes to Experience Discrimination

Today is the so-called "Day of Silence" put on by the LGBT community to attempt to illustrate their idea of what they go through because they are LGBT.  The idea is to "raise consciousness" (a good Maoist term) about the "plight" of LGBT people.

Since this event targets schools, it’s fair game to bring up the whole subject of bullying and persecution in a school context.  Having been at the bottom of the heap in Palm Beach at that time in my life, I can bring some hard-earned expertise to the table.

Liberals of all kinds have many explanations as to why people are persecuted and picked on.  They use morally loaded terms such as "racist," "sexist," "homophobe," and whatever other insult comes to their minds.  Doing it in this way demonises people, forcing them either to retreat to the background (if the liberal-induced attack allows that option, which it frequently doesn’t) or be forced to publicly "repent" of their "feudal attitudes," as Chinese Communists used to force people to do in "group struggle meetings" during the Cultural Revolution.  But the idea is always the same: attack people for what they "are" in a morally loaded fashion, with the result that they are either beat into submission (silence!) or come over to your side.

I find it ludicrous that secularist liberals–especially those veterans of the "sexual revolution" of the 1960’s, which was supposed to toss morality–always resort to moral pressure to get their way.  Even worse is to see people who scoff at the idea of a personal devil demonise people on a regular basis.

The simple truth is this: the only thing you need to experience discrimination is to be different.

We–and when I say this, I mean those of us who live in the U.S.–are part of a society that is held together by shared values.  Without a common ethnic origin, state religion or any of those things that hold other nations together, Americans are ultimately defined by the values they share.  That can rapidly deteriorate into the "dictatorship of the proletariat" (or any other group that can seize power, and that includes the LGBT community) without the checks that we have enshrined in our legal system.  That’s a fine line, one that gets crossed more often in American society than we care to admit.

If liberals–and we include but are not limited to LGBT liberals–were really committed to expanding freedom in order to promote real diversity, they would rid us of many of the "politically correct" requirements we have.  They would allow people to rob themselves of the benefits of interacting with large expanses of the human race through discriminating–but also allow people to discriminate against them.  Discrimination is costly: one reason the South took more than a century to recover from the Civil War is that it immobilised itself through systemic discrimination against a large portion of its population.

The problem with this is that it forces people who are different for whatever reason to learn why they are different and decide whether it is worth it or not.  This is too painful for most people.  Liberals know this, and they also know that the easiest way to make your ways society’s ways is by having your ways defined as "normal" and those you don’t like as "different."  The whole objective of liberalism is to supplant values long accepted in American society as their own.  The whole diversity agenda is a smokescreen for this.

And that brings us to the subject of Christians: liberals need to define real Christianity as different so they can put it down and elevate themselves in the process.  But Our Lord said it would be like this:

“Blessed are those who have been persecuted in the cause of righteousness, for theirs is the Kingdom of Heaven. Blessed are you when people taunt you, and persecute you, and say everything evil about you–untruly, and on my account. Be glad and rejoice, because your reward in Heaven will be great; for so men persecuted the Prophets who lived before you.” (Matthew 5:10-12)

As we said, being different makes you stop and decide whether it is worth it.  For the Christian, it is.  First, there is eternity.  Second, with the mediocrity passed off as success we see in our society today, being "normal" is a major step backward.

Too Much Like the Lizard Queen?

They are strange creatures, these Bolsheviks. They talk of freedom and the reconciliation of the peoples of the world, of peace and unity, and withal they are said to be the most cruel tyrants history has ever known. They are simply exterminating the bourgeoisie, and their arguments are machine guns and the gallows. My talk to-day with Joffe (Soviet negotiator) has shown me that these people are not honest, and in falsity surpass all that cunning diplomacy has been accused of, for to oppress decent citizens in this fashion and then talk at the same time of the universal blessing of freedom—it is sheer lying.  (Count Ottokar Czernin, Austro-Hungarian foreign minister, from  his book In the World War)

Czernin wrote this before Stalin, before the purges, before the whole 70 years of Soviet history.

Some things never change.  This sounds too much like the "Lizard Queen" and her colleagues on the left.

At the Inlet: August, Part 2 (A Fateful Meeting)

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Later that day Julian, Terry and Priscilla resumed their tour.  Their next stop was St. Simon’s Church in Fort Albert.  Until the war all of the Anglican churches in what is now Drahla were Churches of Serelia.  When the Drahlans declared independence, they forced these churches to provisionally affiliate with the Church of Alemara, the Anglican province to the west; that affiliation became permanent with the formal treaty of Drahla’s independence.

This was Terry’s first trip back to Drahla since she had left, so it was another opportunity to be nervous.  When they reached the border, the guards gave Terry a funny look as they checked her very Serelian paperwork, but they were admitted and went on St. Simon’s.

St. Simon’s was an attractive church that had managed to survive and prosper the change of affiliation, the war, and the loss of government funding.  As customary, they arrived in mid-afternoon, but it wasn’t long before an elderly Anglican minister, his wife and two teenagers came in.  Priscilla recognised them immediately and introduced them to Terry.

“This is Reverend Anselm Gant’s father and mother, Bede and Lydia Gant, and Anselm and Theresa’s children, Mary and young Bede.” Mary curtsied at her introduction.  Terry was always impressed at how polite children and young people on this end of the Island generally were—as opposed to their Verecundan counterparts—but these two were above average in manners even by Serelian standards.  As the conversation progressed, Priscilla focused on the elderly Gants.  Although retired, Bede helped out at the church, so Priscilla and them caught up on Anglican news “south of the border.”

Terry for her part talked with the children.  Mary was a boarding student at St. Anne’s, like her mother and aunt had been.  Bede went to St. Matthew’s School in Serelia Beach.  What they wanted to know, however, was the kind of life Darlene was living in the palace.  This is something Terry was prepared to discuss at length; it also gave her an opportunity to share their spiritual activities as well.  Mary and Bede wanted to go there at some time other than Court and get a real tour of the place and spend some time on the beach; Terry promised to try to make that a reality.

About that time the children were informed that they needed to go help set up the after-recital tea in the parish hall.  This they did; both of them left with the elder Gants to do this.  Five minutes later Mary came back and told Terry, “There are three gentlemen outside who would like to see you, Miss Marlowe.”

“Thank you, Mary,” she replied.  She was puzzled by this but went out through the narthex to find three men in suits waiting.  She recognized them immediately.  One was Rev. Peter Kelly, the current General Superintendent of the Drahlan Pentecostal Fellowship.  The second was Rev. James Sillender, pastor of the Fort Albert Pentecostal Church.  The last was Rev. Oliver Hackett, who pastored another church in the Fort Albert area.

“Sister Marlowe,” Kelly said.

“Bretheren,” she replied.

“We didn’t come here for camp meeting,” Sillender noted.  “We have a serious matter to discuss with you.”  Kelly pulled an envelope out of his pocket and handed it to Terry.  “These are ministerial charges which are being laid against you.”

“Charges?  What of?” Terry asked.

“Conduct unbecoming of a minister,” Kelly said.  “There’s also the matter of your lack of reporting since you’ve been in Serelia.”

“We’re sorry it had to come to this,” Sillender said.

“You know you’ll have the opportunity to answer these charges according to the minutes,” Kelly said.  “I would appreciate it, though, if you would at least give us your preliminary response before you leave Fort Albert.”

“With God’s help, I will,” Terry answered.  With that she left the committee outside of the church and went back in.

Julian was finishing up getting the organ ready when he looked out and saw his visibly shaken love seated at the front.  He came over and asked, “Is there something wrong, Terry?”

“Yes, Julian, there is.  But I don’t want to discuss it now.  We’ll talk about it later.”  Julian was miffed but went along.

Terry might as well have been on a barrier island by herself as to be at the recital.  All she could do—and pray about—was her ministerial charges.  By the time the recital was over, she was more at peace with the situation.

At the tea she met some old political colleagues from the Citrus Growers Cooperative.  “I need a favour out of you guys,” she said.

“What’s that?” one of them asked.

“First, I need to borrow some of your office facilities—early, about 0800 tomorrow.  Second, Brother Peter Kelly is in town.  I need to see him and the two other ministers who came to see me this afternoon in your conference room about 1000.”

“We’ll be glad to,” was the response.  They suspected what was going on but said nothing.

Terry arrived at the Cooperative at the appointed time, borrowed a typewriter, did a letter, and made some copies.  By the time the brethren filed into the conference room there to meet with her, she was ready for them.

“So what is your response?” Kelly wanted to know.  “When can you come back for a hearing?”

“My only response is this,” Terry said, handing the original of the letter to Kelly and copies to Sillender and Hackett.  They read the letter as follows:

Rev. Peter Kelly

General Superintendent

Drahlan Pentecostal Fellowship

Dear Brother Kelly:

This is in response to the letter you presented to me yesterday concerning the charges of conduct unbecoming of a minister and failure to report.

First of all, I am surprised that these charges were presented to me without any preliminary consultation with you or with Brother Sillender.  Having been involved in several proceedings such as this in my fifteen years of ministry, I find this rather abrupt.

Second, I deny the charge of conduct unbecoming of a minister.  I have done nothing to dishonour God since I have been in Serelia, any more than I did while I was in Drahla.  Since your letter has absolutely no specifics about the basis of the charges, I cannot answer further.

Third, having been a Provisional District Superintendent, I find it rather unpastoral to include the charge of failure to report without any “friendly reminders.”

I am prepared to defend myself against all of these charges.  However, I realise that my entire expedition to Serelia has been controversial in many quarters, even though it is pastoral in nature.  It has always been my policy to put the interests of God’s church above my personal ones.  Therefore, not desiring to prolong either the agony of the Fellowship or my own any further, with this letter I resign and surrender all ministerial credentials that I have with the Drahlan Pentecostal Fellowship, effective immediately.

May God bless you and all of the Fellowship as we all continue to do the work that our Lord as commissioned us to do.

Until Jesus comes,


Terry Marlowe

The brethren read the letter in silence.  Then Kelly said, “This is very noble of you, Sister Marlowe.”

“I believe this matter is at an end, Brother Kelly,” Sillender said.  The three rose, said their goodbyes, and left.  Terry left just after them, thanking the Cooperative for their help.  When she got outside, Hackett was still there, waiting for her.

“Can I ask you one question,” he asked her.


“Do you think you’ll marry that Anglican minister who played the organ last night?”

“Only God knows that,” Terry said.  “Just because I turned in my license doesn’t mean I still don’t want God’s will for my life.”

“Nobody else may like this,” Hackett said, “but I hope you do.  You’ve been single long enough.  Not many of the rest of us would have stayed single for this long.”

“I guess that’s what bothers me the most about this whole thing.  But keep me in your prayers.”

“I will,” he answered.  “A lot of people here will.  You still have a lot of friends here.”

“Thanks,” she said.  They shook hands and departed.  Terry made her way back to St. Simon’s.  Julian was waiting for her.

“Did it go well?” he asked.  Terry handed him the two letters.  Julian read them with progressive concern coming over his face.

“Oh dear, I had no idea it would come to this.  I was hoping something could be worked out.”

“Evidently, it can’t,” she replied.  “I guess I’m all yours now—my bridges are officially burnt.”

“You’re God’s child, Terry,” Julian reminded her.  “He will be with you.  As the Holy Scriptures say, ‘Can a woman forget her sucking child, that she should not have compassion on the son of her womb? yea, they may forget, yet will I not forget thee. Behold, I have graven thee upon the palms of my hands; thy walls are continually before me.’”  They were both in tears as they embraced each other as closely as they ever had.

Julian’s last recital was at St. Mark’s Church in Drago.  They loaded the car and proceeded down the Old Beran Road.  After what she had been through in Fort Albert, the idea of going to Drago, where most of the pressure for the abolition of Royal Counsellor had come from, wasn’t so bad.

St. Mark’s was near the waterfront; from the church through the trees you could see the Crescan Sound and boats at dock or anchor, more numerous all the time.  They didn’t have much time to sightsee, though, as they were running a little late due to Terry’s problems.  As always, though, everything came together.

Terry was in her usual position before the service started when she felt a tap on the shoulder.  She turned around and saw no less than the Princess Andrea, her mother Cecile, and Andrea’s oldest daughter Deborah.  They were so excited that even Julian, making final adjustments and practice, could hear them over his organ playing.  Andrea was down visiting her mother.  They had a lot to catch up on, which they did both before and after the recital.

“So you resigned your credentials,” Andrea told Terry during the tea.  “I hate to hear that.  I was hoping you could come back and dedicate my next child, due in April.”

“You’re pregnant again?” Terry asked.

“Yes, it’s just too much fun,” Andrea sighed.  “But they’re a joy.  But you’ve got to tell me—are you and Julian serious?”

“This country is crazy,” Terry observed.  “First, they’re all mad about me going to Serelia and dating Julian.  Then they want to know when the wedding’s going to be.”

“This place is crazy—in a lot of ways.”

“How’s your new Prime Minister working out?”

“Duane Peterson?  He’s okay.  They’re still hashing out a constitution.  I leave that to Dennis and Michael—I’d rather raise the children, they’ll mind you.  The King is sick about this whole thing—he spends a lot of time out on his hunting estate.  He’d rather fight the mosquitoes than the Provisional Committee.  They’re trying for a referendum on the constitution in October.  I wouldn’t be surprised if he abdicates.  Then we’re going to have to had constitutions for all of these ‘cantons’ we’re getting—Drago, Cresca, Barlin, etc..  By the time we get this government figured out, we’ll have wasted enough time to have blown any advantage a ‘democracy’ is supposed to bring.  If it weren’t for Cathy at the Central Bank, we’d be in really serious trouble.”

“Duane was in my youth group in Cresca,” Terry reminisced.  “He was a good kid.  I hope he does well.  Thinking about him as a teenager then and Prime Minister now makes me feel old…I didn’t know that Queen Annette was your aunt until recently.”

“My mother will hardly discuss the whole thing,” Andrea answered.  “The whole thing about her father and brothers is too painful.  I’ve tried to get her to go visit the Queen in Serelia but she won’t go—says she won’t set foot in the place.”

“Maybe you and Cathy and Queen Janet can invite her to Barlin, or here.  Annette is lonely.  She doesn’t get out much.  I spend some time with her between everything else—we play mah-jongg.”

“I didn’t know you played that,” Andrea said.  “My mother loves it.  We used to play it growing up.”

“I guess I didn’t want anybody to know,” Terry sheepishly admitted.  “But the Serelians have an extensive intelligence file on me and that’s how they found out.  I’ve had a lot of stuff like that happen.”

“Next time Dennis and I come to see you, I’ll find out just how good you are.”

Priscilla’s sister was the rector’s wife at St. Mark’s, so they wanted to spend time together in the morning.  Julian and Terry went out to promenade on the dock at Drago when they saw a nice looking black couple coming up to them.

It was Arthur and Elizabeth Millington; Terry recognised Elizabeth, they embraced and the introductions were made.  Elizabeth was the daughter of Andrew Vickers, the pastor of the large Pentecostal church in Beran.  The men were properly introduced and then they decided to look for somewhere to drink coffee or tea.  It took a little doing but they found the dining room of the guesthouse still open.  Their porch overlooked the harbour so they were able to socialise and still take in the beautiful scene.

“How is your church doing in Vidamera?” Terry asked.

“It is difficult,” Arthur confessed.  “Vidamera is a hard place, as you know.  I have had to work quite a lot but that’s getting a little better.  It’s good enough so we can take a little holiday here in Drago.  Now that Father Raymond is now a bishop, I’m not sure whether they will still want Elizabeth at the school—the new priest is from the mainland, he doesn’t understand our ways.  But we hear you’re having your problems also.”

“I certainly am,” Terry admitted.

“We heard a rumour that the church here revoked your credentials,” Elizabeth said.

“I didn’t give them the chance,” Terry answered.  “I resigned them just yesterday.”

“It’s a pity what’s happened,” Julian added.

“Talk about you—the two of you—is all over the Island,” Arthur stated.

“My father got up at our camp meeting and told everyone that he believed that you were on God’s work in Serelia and that a lot of the talk wasn’t true,” said Elizabeth.  “He asked me to stand in for you and asked the ministers to come down and pray for you.  Almost all of them did.  That’s helped a lot.  Now my father told me that, if I ever saw you, to tell you that, if you needed them, we would extend credentials to you if you ever came to Aloxa.  He also wants you to come back for a revival and Bible teaching session.”

“I want to more than you’ll ever know,” Terry said.  “You people are great.  I’ve just been tied up with everything.”

“I’ve also heard that we’re about to get an embassy in Serelia sometime this year,” Arthur added.  “Maybe that will make things easier.”

“I hope so,” Terry said.  They talked about everything and everyone for a long time.  As the noon hour approached, Julian reminded Terry that Priscilla might be wanting to get on back to Serelia.  They embraced each other as they left.

“You know,” said Julian, musing as they walked back to St. Mark’s, “that’s the first time I’ve ever actually socialised with black people in my life, other than when I was at university.”

“They’re wonderful, aren’t they,” Terry replied.  “White people, they love you one day and hate you the next.  When you have a black friend, you have a friend for life.”

The Millingtons were likewise talking about their meeting.  “They make a lovely couple,” Elizabeth said.  “Terry looks so happy.”

“There’s one rumour I can crush now,” Arthur said.

“And what’s that?”

“That they’re having an affair.”

“And how do you plan to do that?”

“It’s a man sort of thing.  Some men, you have your doubts. Him—the whole idea is ridiculous!  Just look at him…”

“Now, stop it,” Elizabeth said.

When the three returned to Serelia Saturday afternoon, they let Terry out at the palace.  She caught sight of Kyle on the grounds and motioned him to come over.

“I need a favour of you,” Terry told him.

“What might that be?”

“I need to see Tim Mallen.  Tonight.  Tell him to meet me at the front porch of the Inn at 2000.  It’s important.”

“I understand—I’ll get it done.”

The Inn had a large front porch.  The evening was calm.  Tim Mallen sat on one of the wrought iron chairs there; they were well provided for with padding.  Suddenly Terry emerged from the Inn with two cups of coffee.  “How do you like your coffee, Brother Tim?” she asked.

“Sister Terry—I didn’t know you were here.”  He rose, she put the mugs down, and they shook hands.  “I just take mine black.”  They both sat down.

“I’m sorry for the short notice—I know you like to use this time to prepare your sermon, but this is urgent—I wanted to discuss things with you before I had to face everyone at the palace.”

“Well, Sister Terry, what we’ve got to discuss is probably more important than any sermon I might prepare right at the moment,” Tim said in his slow, deliberate manner that was almost his trademark.  “The whole church is tore up about this.”

“I’m sorry I’m so much trouble,” Terry said.  “I was blindsided by what happened at Fort Albert.”

“It’s not your fault, really, Sister Terry.  Let me try to explain all of this from the beginning.

“I was real proud when I heard you were coming here.  I knew you came for Princess Darlene and all that.  But ever since you’ve been here, there’s been a lot of talk going on.  Sister Mallen would tell me about it, but I didn’t pay it any mind.

“Right after the hurricane, Brother Sillender—I’m on his district—came to see me.  He started asking me a lot of questions about you.  I didn’t have a lot of answers, so I asked him, ‘What kind of trouble is she in?’  Serious trouble was his answer.  So I asked why.  He said he couldn’t discuss everything he knew but he told me the following.

“The first thing he brought up was your going to the beach with Reverend Lewis.  He asked if you two were having an affair.  I told him that I knew you were seeing each other, but that you were too much a woman of God to have an affair with anyone, let alone the likes of Reverend Lewis.  He told me that he understood that they had done things on the beach that were so shameful, he wasn’t sure how he was going to deal with them if it went to trial.  I said that I knew that they had been on the beach together, but that the palace beach is very private, and that the King doesn’t permit any foolishness on any beach in this country.”

“Especially since he was watching the whole thing himself, along with the rest of the royal family,” Terry observed.

“The second thing he brought up was about her seeing Reverend Lewis at all,” Tim continued.  “I told him that she—you—was free to marry.  He said it was a disgrace for any saint to get involved with a priest of an apostate church, but especially you.

“The third thing he brought up was that he had heard tell that you were going to join their church.  I told him we’ve discussed this matter before.  I reminded him that it was impossible for anyone to hold any kind of government office, or palace or Cathedral position, without being a communicant with their church.  I also reminded him that many of my members also maintain a membership with their church just to keep their jobs.  He said that that policy was wrong for them and wrong for you, but that maybe if they made an example out of you, Sister Terry, everyone else would finally get the message.

“He said there were a lot of other things that he didn’t want to get into.  I asked him ‘What are you going to do?’  He said he’d have to discuss it with Brother Kelly, since you were technically still on the Barlin District, and were so well known.  He said that it wouldn’t be long though.”

“It wasn’t,” Terry sighed.  “So who went to him and told him all this?”

“Let me tell you one more thing before I get to that,” Tim answered.  “I knew we had a serious problem.  So I called a meeting of my five house deacons.  They had heard a lot of this too.  So I asked them what they thought of it.  I didn’t get a very positive answer; I knew you were in trouble then.  But one of my deacons—the gardener at the palace, actually—suggested that the five of us might want to meet with Princess Darlene to let her tell what had happened to her, since she was the reason you came in the first place.  It took some doing, but we got an appointment with her the day she came back from seeing her family in Amherst—I think it was the same day you left for Fort Albert.

“We met in the parish hall at the Cathedral.  She spent about an hour with us.  She told us about how you prayed with her for salvation on the yacht, how you had given everything up to come and minister to her, and some of the things that you had taught her during Bible study.  She was really sweet—I really felt the presence of the Lord during that meeting.  At the end we all prayed together for you and for each other.  As we were leaving, another deacon broke down and confessed that he knew who it was who went to Brother Sillender.”

“Who was it,” asked Terry, a little impatiently.

“It was Sister Hammett,” Tim replied.

“DeDe—the Queen’s lady-in-waiting.”

“She claims she saw everything on the beach—and elsewhere.”

“She probably did see us there—but what she told Brother Sillender and what she saw probably didn’t have much to do with each other,” Terry observed.

“Turns out, though that we weren’t the only ones to find out about Sister Hammett.”


“When the news hit here on Friday that you had turned in your license, both the Queen and the Princess were incensed.  They dismissed Sister Hammett—Brother Hammett had to lose his job too on the maintenance staff—I feel real sorry for him, he’s a good man.  Sister Hammett’s daughter is now lady-in-waiting to the Queen, she just started coming back to our church recently.”

“I wonder who’s going to be Darlene’s lady-in-waiting?”  Terry interrupted.

“I’ve heard her name is Althea—used to work on the Amherst estate,” Tim replied.

“I know who she is—she’s the one whose daughter was bit by a rattlesnake and Darlene spent all night with her.  Darlene proved both her ability as a servant leader and her belief in divine healing—and that’s before she got saved.”

“God is always preparing people for something,” Tim said.

“So where are the Hammetts going?”

“I’ve heard tell they’re going to move to Barlin.”

“And make Brother Calloway’s life miserable,” Terry said.

“Maybe not,” Tim said.  “I think I’ve got the votes to turn her out.  She should have come to one or both of us first.  That’s the Bible way.  Besides, I’m not about to have my members go over my head and run to the DS every time something doesn’t suit them.  We live in a different world up here—if we’re going to risk going to jail all the time, the least they can do is to let us work things out the best we can.”

“I’ve learned that the hard way,” Terry agreed.

“This whole thing isn’t right—you’ve done too much for us.”

“Such as?”

“Such as keeping the church constable off our backs.  He hasn’t raided a Pentecostal church since you got here.  I saw him last week on the beach with his grandkids—we just waved at each other.  And there’s that Bible study, and everything else…”

“Thank you—that makes it all worthwhile.  Can I ask you one question?”


“What do you think of Julian Lewis?  Honestly.”

“Well,” Tim said after a long pause, “I don’t think these Church of Serelia clergy are very spiritual, except maybe at the liquor cabinet.  But him—he’s a good man.  Always treated us right.  If I were in your position, I wouldn’t mind spending my life with him, but I’m not so sure about his church.”

“Neither am I, Brother Tim.  I don’t know what I’m going to do about that, especially now.”

“God will find a way, Sister Terry,” Tim said.  “He’s never failed us yet.”  They talked about other matters, but finally they took their leave of each other after prayer.

Darlene and Terry went through a long analysis of the past week’s events when they reunited on Monday morning.  Darlene was saddened by Terry’s problems with her church, but said she was blessed meeting with Tim Mallen and his deacons.  They also talked about Darlene’s family as well.  After that session, however, their Bible study and prayer time were altered by one significant addition: the Queen became a regular part of it.

Without a catechism, Julian and Terry had to find another topic of conversation, but Terry’s whirlwind tour of east Island Anglicanism—along with her problems with the Pentecostal church—opened up new vistas of conversation.  Julian felt more at liberty to discuss his years as an organist, choirmaster and minister.  He also took a renewed interest in Terry’s years in the ministry as well.  As he gazed into those dark eyes he so adored, he came to know that he was looking into a world that most Anglicans—especially ministers—were ignorant of, a world that combined material poverty and sacrifice with spiritual exuberance and energy, and not just as a disinterested observer but through the very eyes of one of its most prominent participants.

There are No Transparent People

In the speech he used to fire radio "shock jock" Don Imus (looks like the shock is going the other way) CBS President and Chief Executive Officer Leslie Moonves said the following:

There has been much discussion of the effect language like this has on our young people, particularly young women of color trying to make their way in this society…That consideration has weighed most heavily on our minds as we made our decision.

Although I found Imus’ characterisation of Rutgers’ women’s basketball team as offensive as many (for different reasons,) Moonves’ phrase "women of colour" riles me up just about as badly.

Why?  As a black friend said long ago, "nobody’s clear.  Everybody’s coloured something."  Back in those days black people were referred to as "coloured," which they found offensive, and justifiably so.  So we had to quit saying that. Now people routinely refer to non-white people as "people of colour," which is ridiculous.  The human race is not a simple matter of black and white, but were created by God to be a continuum, mixable because we are one human family and can procreate interacially.

But there’s another angle to this: there are no transparent people, either racially or any other way.  People are complex, with all kinds of internal contradictions.  That’s why our society today, which strips people of their privacy, is so corrosive to the human spirit.  That also underscores our need for a Saviour who doesn’t accept us for what we do or what we are but what he did for us.