The Crucifix and the Cross: Questions Answered

Cristo_crucificadoThere have been a lot of articles about banning crosses lately. Bridging the differences between east and west, we see people on two continents strive to get rid of them. On pretty much every article in question, I see at least one Facebook comment, “People should note the difference between a cross and a crucifix.”

I am not certain if the problem lies in the fact that no reporter bothers to investigate the difference, or if that the commentariat wishes that the difference be expressed in the  banning.

I’m inclined to believe in the former. The latter is too depressing to think about.

Just in case, I aim at both ideas.

First, the crucifix depicts Christ on the cross. (see painting above) There are many styles, from the dramatic, bloody, and starving, where suffering is plainly evident. There are stylized crucifixes, which suggest a shadow of a body to an almost generic figure. Others show a more loving aspect to our Lord while pinned to the cross, thus speaking plainly the closeness of the Resurrection to his suffering and death. These are almost exclusively Catholic. There may still be high church Anglicans that carry the crucifix, but they are swimming cross the Tiber by the day, as their own church, drunk on letting it all hang out, lose their flock to the howling wilderness.

By Dmitry Ivanov (Own work) [Public domain or CC BY-SA 4.0], via Wikimedia Commons

By Dmitry Ivanov (Own work) [Public domain or CC BY-SA 4.0], via Wikimedia Commons

The Orthodox among us have the twin cross which might carry the corpus. (That’s what a representation of Christ on a cross is actually called.)

Even they are a bit more temperate than those Catholics at showing off the corpus. Catholics seem almost mad over it.

A plain old cross is, just that. Two planks of wood tethered together, used to describe almost every other flavor of Christianity other than Catholicism. There are an almost infinite number of ways to describe two sticks tied together, two planks of a tree, two rods of iron that intersect, welded unbreakably together.

By Kehlmann Studio Archive (Kehlmann Studio Archive) [CC BY 1.0], via Wikimedia Commons

By Kehlmann Studio Archive (Kehlmann Studio Archive) [CC BY 1.0], via Wikimedia Commons

So I must point out…

If both the crucifix and the cross both refer to Christianity, you will never convince a Marxist that there is any difference. To a bourgeois, you could argue that a cross without a corpus is a kinder and gentler thing. If he already believes that Catholics are harmful but another sort of Christian is benign, he will sleepily go along with what you say. But never, ever will a Marxist or any form of communist see the difference. If it points to God, he will destroy it, no matter how kind or benign the object. He will destroy the Easter bunny rabbit, along with the empty tomb.

You must understand that the Marxist revels in that which shocks, that which marvels and that which makes one uncomfortable. Inhumanity to man is the mark of his faith. Man’s inhumanity to God might make God plausible, and that must be eradicated first of all.

For Christ’s crime was not that he was kind, not that he was a wise teacher, that he healed the sick, or that he banished demons, that he sang or ate on the Sabbath day. It was not even that he raised his friends from the dead, or broke us free from the bonds of sin. It is that he is God and we are not. That is the full stated crime of Christ Jesus. And for that He must suffer for all of our sins.

I argue that a crucifix speaks this truth more eloquently, but a cross points to the same truth with a more general sort of point. An empty cross is a stage, a sentence without an object. A crucifix points to the lengths God would go to love his children.

A cross states there is room on his Throne for everybody. Think carefully, and tell me again which message is more gentle.

Keyboard_Cross

The Special Hell

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I found another category of “specially damned” individuals rampant in modern times. All those people who morph the faces of their friends or famous people (who can tell) on classic paintings. If that weren’t bad enough, they share them to the point it uselessly pollutes Google image search with the world’s most wretched and ugly Photoshop.

For goodness sake, what did Velasquez ever do to you?!  Just search for Velasquez if you really want your eyes to bleed.

OK, Fine. This is by far the best of the lot. It’s even funny.

So I guess sentence reduced to eating desert first and purgatorial probation.

diego-velasquez

Because, Awesome Beverage: The Spotted Cow (Adult Float)

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So this is a rare as hen’s teeth food post. I know that hasn’t happened in a while but I discovered something amazing.

Because I don’t know much about the names of classic drinks, I’m going to call it: The Spotted Cow. You who are not cursed with dietary weirdness, take note.  This tastes so amazing you won’t care who can or can’t have it.  I’m pretty sure this has a fair amount of sugar in it, but… I didn’t die.  Probably because this was dinner.  (Bad me, I know…)

The Spotted Cow

Ingredients:

1 bottle of Stella Artois Cidre

1 generous scoop of So Delicious Salted Carmel Cluster Ice Cream

Tools: A big spoon, a tall wide frosty glass, a sweet tooth, and a willingness to devour yummy things. Optional long dessert spoon and a wide straw.

Yes, the ice cream is made of cashews. Relax. Also, that texture is supposed to be “slightly more solid than soft serve.”  I found it at the local big box store by chance. (Meijers, if you are curious. Sorry you sad sack folks outside the Midwest. They don’t exist elsewhere. Though there is ONE in NY.  Not sure where. Probably somewhere like Rochester, which reminds me of Michigan in many ways.)

Directions:  Scoop ice cream to your preference in tall frostly glass. Pour your pompously pronounced cidre into the glass. Be a bit careful, as it will foam up if your bottle was freshly opened. (I left the bottle open for a little bit to let them subside, because cheating)  Stir if you dare. Devour lazily as if there is not a calorie in a truck load. I used glass housed cidre, so if the stuff from a can tastes different I can’t help you.

Variations: I bet a shot of apple pie would not be amiss. I could also see adding a few slices of crisp apple to the mix as a garnish. I don’t do that whole foofy garnish thing, unless the object really adds something. Like the olive in a martini.  It adds a fair amount of salt that you’d be amiss without.

Admission of blogfail: I did not stop long enough between creation and devouring long enough to take a picture. The one posted is a thing I found on the wikimedia that looks vaguely similar.  Call it a dramatic reenactment.  🙂

 

Oh, dear. I’ll have to make this again to share it honest and true.

See page for author [CC BY 4.0], via Wikimedia Commons

See page for author [CC BY 4.0], via Wikimedia Commons

Announcement, continued.

Yep, more about my personal weirdness with hubby and cancer. I don’t really want to focus on the cancer here, and yet I’d like a soap box where I can talk about how the cancer stuff is actually going. I have decided to start a new blog, and just use this for “all the stuff I want to talk about that *isn’t* cancer.  Also, I would like my family to be able to go to that blog and see how things are going at a glance.  So, in the interests of doing that, I’ll leave my new blog link here.

http://angelinunquamlamentantur.blogspot.com/

I will still put up some art, and thoughts about that, and some links to the sad puppies things, and whatever updates about writing you may need to know.

Announcement

By Jaume Meneses (Flickr: Barris – Gòtic) [CC BY-SA 2.0], via Wikimedia Commons

Turns out my hubby has cancer. It’s not the worst form of cancer, and it’s not a death sentence. But it’s going to be a real challenge.

That’s why I’ve been gone for a few days.

So…

I will do my best.

Thankfully, “Random File” got me something interesting, as you see above. I really like the cherubim and the scalloped detailing on this facade.  Then again, it is Baroque architecture in Barcelona. Can’t get much better than that!

Still Here…

Dealing with a lot of crazy issues these days. Such as… my husband was in the hospital, and I had to prevent a threat to my housing situation. Long story, very very exhausting. I should be blogging still… and yet, I spaced on it for almost a week.

Abrissarbeiten_der_Kaserne_Adjt._Brasseur_an_der_Westhovener_Aue_Str_(anderer_Blickwinkel)

By Jotpe (Own work) [CC BY-SA 3.0], via Wikimedia Commons

Yeah, it’s been that kind of week.

On the upside, I uploaded a bunch of pictures I took of a local shrine, and some other surprises.

Stay tuned. I Taint Dead Yet.

 

What is Freedom? Of Speech? (Part I)

What is Freedom? Freedom of Speech?

Before we get into Freedom of Speech, Let’s look at Freedom first.  My reason? Too many people do not know what freedom is.

Illustrative of this is a Chesterton quote, who sums it up neatly.

“Most modern freedom is at root fear. It is not so much that we are too bold to endure rules; it is rather that we are too timid to endure responsibilities.”
What’s Wrong With the World, GK Chesterton

What isn’t a bid to avoid responsibility is an attempt to avoid suffering at all costs.  This explains how the Left can simultaneously claim to support “free speech” and decry anyone who speaks and is threatened– or killed.  I mean, it’s easy to decry a dead man when he isn’t there to refute what you say.  And… now we understand.

Rights aren’t issued by consensus.  If they were, the strongest arm would always win.   Rights are God given– innate, if you prefer.

It’s not just me.  Let’s look at the definition in detail.

1. the state of being free or at liberty rather than in confinement or under physical restraint:
He won his freedom after a retrial.
2. exemption from external control, interference, regulation, etc.
3.the power to determine action without restraint.
4. political or national independence.
5. personal liberty, as opposed to bondage or slavery:
a slave who bought his freedom.
6.exemption from the presence of anything specified (usually followed by from):
freedom from fear.

Does that really sound like something that is under the shadow of a death threat?  Sure, speaking your mind can be dangerous. You know what? When it becomes that dangerous, that means you have to escalate beyond words to defend your rights. There are other options outside of giving up because it’s scary or hard.

Oh, and here’s my personal favorite definition of freedom:

14.civil liberty, as opposed to subjection to an arbitrary or despotic government.

Hint: killing people over ugly words or pictures is not only despotism, but barbarism.  You want to live under such a government? Make haste and move there. Please. We just might rescue this faltering republic that much more quickly without your…”help”.

Some people only think they can revoke the right to free speech by censorship, threats or taking lives.  They are gravely mistaken. Free American mouthpieces that pander to those who would put  our freedom to the sword aren’t any better.  These are not citizens but mewling slaves for hire, ratting their self-imposed chains so they can force them on the rest of us.

Drama Llama comes home to roost

The Drama Llama comes home to roost.

Remember when I said…

 

I have a fair degree of experience with the whole feminist culture warrior shtick, and I took my leave based on experience. I was also not born in an echo chamber. My family spanned the culture war from both ends, so I had a good look at the best and worst of both worlds​”?

I had relatives arming themselves against the attack on Idlewild, defending the rights of black people, even though they were not. I had relatives wearing white hoods– even blood relatives shooting at each other in the middle of it all. I had relatives running for office on a Communist Party platform in the 1930’s. I had lots of family fleeing Germany– both the poisonous fallout from the Weimar republic and the guns and gas chambers of the Gestapo. I have a relative who was quoted extensively by the NAACP, yet was a republican icon for most of his life. I have relatives who have served with honor for the military and with distinction in the clandestine service. I had relatives on both sides of the pro-life debate, and I spent my formative years caught in the middle.

My mother was a leftist, and a radical feminist. She knew enough about Aristotle to criticize him and sound like she knew what she was talking about. It would take a scholar to refute her, mostly because much of the so called Enlightenment agrees with her.

My father was a fiscal conservative, but would have been called a social liberal, before we started forcing businesses to go against their consciences. He had a certain preference for ‘leave me alone’ standard of law that has a long glorious history in this country, that would find sympathy among the tea party. So if dinner time conversation ever meandered into politics, things got… exciting, to put it charitably.

It was a blessing, because the madness that has struck our country is for me, merely deja vu. I can’t run away from it by running away from home. It is as if a family disease leaked into the aquifer and now affects millions.

I used to pretend there is a place where I can go where it is not a factor. That place used to be the internet. I am so old I even remember when SF fandom was a shelter against politics. Well, now what it has affected both , and neither can seem to let go of it. Like the Drama Llama, it goes looking for you, even if you don’t seek it.

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I went off to become a writer in the safest place I could think of– in Science Fiction. And lo, the disease has found me still, and affects dear friends both past and present. Though it appears to be about the Hugos, it is about far more than that– it is about whether or not the umbilical fannish culture that birthed me will survive, or simply be supplanted by consumerist fandom. Come to find I have some friends on both sides, here, too.  Since it has decided not to engage or embrace the large influx of new people, is it will be starved to death by it’s staunchest defenders. It is worth pointing out that only one side is still talking to me. And that was true even before I declared a side. Running only changes the scenery. Hiding is an illusion.

Cuidado e Llamas, homes. That’s all I’m saying.

Keep in mind: being careful is not the same thing as hiding, giving up, or giving in.

The Phyrric twitter Barrage

JW with script

From my last post… (Age of Ultron Review, for those just arriving)

Speaking of gauntlets, I guess I have to talk about the Pyrrhic twitter barrage.

Joss is so not one of my political compatriots. Yet these women… can’t even wrong properly. Seriously. Why attack and devour one of their own? They call that a win? If they think they scored points in the culture war, well, let’s just say they were engaging in some deliberate friendly fire, just because.

Hell of a way to lose, mon cheri. God Speed, and enjoy those ashes in your mouth. If this keeps up, those of us in the “leave me alone” contingent won’t have to fire a shot.

So I said above, “You can’t even wrong properly” as if a retrograde reprobate such as myself knows what I’m talking about. Well, you see, just because I’m not flinging poo from across the isle does not mean I have always been what I am today. I have a fair degree of experience with the whole feminist culture warrior shtick, and I took my leave based on experience. I was also not born in an echo chamber. My family spanned the culture war from both ends, so I had a good look at the best and worst of both worlds.

In order to fisk these criticisms, I don’t even have to dip into the well of my knee jerk libertarianism– or probe the depths of my Catholic sympathies. Logic and reason don’t even have to enter into it. All I have to do is channel my mother, who was also a second wave radical feminist. Compared to these people, she had nuance. She had read a bit more history. But it is still the putrid foundation from which their culture springs.

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She would have given him points for quoting Abigail Adams at a critical juncture, when we learn that a certain character with leadership qualities gets many of them from his SO. We have seen Black Widow be nothing but a strong, dispassionate warrior for two or three films, and now we see what is behind those eyes, what she struggled against to overcome. When she shows some sign of regret… how can you truly struggle without it? We are informed that she is insufficiently strong, because she did not celebrate a decision that was forced on her. Excuse me? So now we aren’t pro-choice, but no choice?

Well, at least you are being honest for a change. And I guess the fact that she has rescued several heroes and has the massive Hulk wrapped around her little finger means nothing.

Now for a place where they really fell down on the job. The Red Witch. Oh, sure, she’s the bad ass who brings the strongest heroes down low, and is the only reason why her unassailable speed-demon brother bothers to get up every day. She even catches Ultron unawares and manages to get her and her sib away alive, which is a real accomplishment when dealing with that cruel and vindictive robot.

But she had a massive breakdown in the middle of a critical battle– and has to get a pep talk from a strong male character to move on. And guess what? He’s the closest to the straight white male the whole movie has. Burn. Aaaaannnnd, they miss it completely.

Where are the haters when you really need them? Do they have the true courage of their convictions, or do they fling poo because that is all they know how to do? They can’t even do it particularly well by their own standard.

You need a flipping Catholic libertarian to school you on how it’s done. You had one job…