At the “Twilight” of the Sun of Justice – Folha de São Paulo, January 1, 1979

 

by Plinio Corrêa de Oliveira

 

Christmas parade through the streets of downtown São Paulo on Christmas 1957:“I am referring to the widespread secularization of mindsets, culture, art, relationships—in a word, of life itself.”

Compared to previous years, this 1978 Christmas in São Paulo highlights the worsening of a phenomenon that should not exist in the first place. But if it does, it should at least spare the celebration of the Savior’s Birth.

I am referring to the widespread secularization of mindsets, culture, art, relationships—in a word, life itself. In this context, secularization essentially means paganization. As the God-Man is pushed into the shadows, the space He leaves is filled by very concrete and tangible “values” that are sometimes glorified as grandiose abstractions: the Economy, Health, Sex, the Machine, and many others (the anachronistic capital letters are intentional to convey my point better). Clearly, these are material “values” promoted through a propaganda system heavily influenced by Marxism, Freudianism, and similar ideologies.

Unlike in the classical world, these “values” are not personified in gods or embodied in statues. This does not stop them from being true pagan idols of our unfortunate secularized world.

The influence of secular neo-paganism has increasingly infiltrated modern Christmas—a gradual, yet perfectly obvious infiltration not in just one way, but simultaneously in every conceivable way.

Beginning with Advent, this period—comprising the four weeks before Christmas in the liturgical year—was a time for Christendom to focus on reflection, humble repentance, and the tangible hope of the great joy the birth of the Messiah would bring. Everyone prepared to welcome the Child-God, who, still in his mother’s virginal womb, was drawing nearer each day to the blessed moment when he would begin his salvific life among men.

In this intense and vividly religious atmosphere, the mood gradually shifted. As the most sacred night of all approached, contrition turned into joy, until the moment when, amid the festive pomp of Midnight Mass, families, communities, and nations felt anointed by the sacred joy descending from the highest heavens. Like a balm of heavenly fragrance, in every city, in every home, and within every soul, the sense spread that the Prince of Peace, the Mighty God, the Lion of Judah, the Emmanuel, had just been born once again. “Stille Nacht, heilige Nacht;” this famous song was translated into our language less expressively as “Silent Night.”

What remains of all that preparation? Who still considers Advent other than a small minority? Among that small group, how many think of it through the lens of true Catholic and traditional theology, rather than the confused and distorted theologies currently shaking the Christian world as if they were violent fits?

But let us set aside this minority and consider the crowds bustling in the big cities. They do not remember the Advent. The daily rush continues, amplified by the burden of bills to pay, gifts to send, visits to make, and parties or happy hours to organize. In short, everyone approaches Christmas not as a time to look forward to with hope, but as a hectic, costly, and somewhat complicated day that they’ll be glad to “leave behind.”

It is quite true that in cities, especially large ones, the approach of Christmas is marked by the proliferation of colorful lights in residential neighborhoods, long strings of lights on busy avenues, and lavish store window decorations. However, it’s easy to sense that the unusual, entirely manufactured joy these displays tend to evoke stems from a desire to buy, enjoy, and celebrate. Nothing or almost nothing in these electric lights reminds us of the Messiah about to arrive. Instead, they serve as a reminder of an economy eager for stimulation: commerce pushing to increase sales of its inventory, and industry multiplying its products (and profits) to fill the gaps left on store shelves by increased consumption. In short, the Economy-Idol is becoming the central focus of expectations, longings, and Christmas celebrations at the end of this century. Mammon. The Stomach. Matter. Not Jesus!

Christmas finally arrives. Does it still bring families together around a nativity scene? Sometimes, yes. However, in many cases, it does not unite them around the manger, where the Child-God opens His arms to the deeply moved Blessed Virgin Mary, under St. Joseph’s reflective, quietly joyful gaze. They gather around a table where delicacies, champagne for those who can afford it, and modest drinks for those who cannot, occupy the attention once centered primarily on the Birth of the Redeemer. In how many homes does minimal and increasingly transparent clothing create an atmosphere of sensuality, profoundly distorting the meaning of that night of unsurpassed purity?

There are celebrations under whose influence charity shrinks and extends less and less to the homes of those who have nothing. In these homes, the generosity once lavished by Christian justice and charity is replaced by the hiss of “Catholic” subversion, which, under the pretext of Christmas, makes itself heard through the voice of some grassroots community agent or something of the sort.

In reality, however, the new secular Christmas has another side. The rush of tourism displaces countless families from their homes, which, along with the parish church, should be the specific setting for Christmas Eve. Instead, they are scattered across hotels, beaches, or countryside, amidst a worldly noise where the angelic voices singing “Gloria in excelsis Deo” cannot be heard.

But secularization doesn’t end there. It extends through Christmas, even in the quiet moments that linger into the following celebrations: New Year’s, Epiphany…

In religious terms, the New Year feast is the Feast of the Circumcision. It commemorates Our Lord Jesus Christ, who, out of love for humanity, shed drops of his infinitely precious blood even in his earliest childhood for mankind’s sake. It encourages reflection on the great sacrifice that redeems us from sin, rescues us from eternal death, and opens the way to Heaven.

This religious feast of the Child God is overshadowed by the dull celebration of a thoroughly secular universal fellowship of peoples. A celebration irredeemably empty, like everything secular, which draws cynical laughter from the iron and bamboo curtains dividing nations, from the terrorism that frightens them, from the threat of nuclear destruction hanging over them like a heavy cloud, and from the frantic chaos of conflicting and irreconcilable ideas and interests filled with increasing antagonism and hatred.

In a word, when the sun sets, vicious beasts emerge from their lairs and roam the jungle. Secularism presents Jesus Christ to the world as a setting sun. Why should there be any surprise at the multiplication and spread of evil brooding in the recesses of de-Christianized hearts, maddened cities, and lonely places where vice and crime lurk to increase depravity upon depravity?

But—someone might ask—why bring all this up during such a joyful season? Why all the whimpering while people are eager to laugh and celebrate?

This is done to protest. And if this protest sounds like whimpering to an ear dulled by modern cacophony, the fault lies with those who can see only what it is not: whimpering.

Whimpering is cowardly and echoes defeat and surrender. In contrast, a protest inspired by love for Christ, the conquering King, and by Mary, “ut castrorum acies ordinata” (like an army in battle array), rises fearlessly amid misunderstanding. This protest is a cry for reparation and a proclamation of nonconformity. More than that, it is a harbinger of victory.