I’ve been spending way too much time wandering into dark places recently.
I wrote a piece on euthanasia that was published in Aleteia and then another on manifestations of the culture of death that was published in the Catholic World Report. During a seminar I gave in Rochester for the Word on Fire Institute in the first week of December, I started listening to what I was saying and realized I was spending far too much time on the dark side—dealing with dark topics. I promised those listening that I would bring more light to the topics I choose for the next one.
That seminar on dark topics was called “Three Threats to the Disabled,” and it focused on the triple threat of eugenics, distorted cultural perceptions of sexuality, and the mental health crisis’ oversized impact on the disabled. Yes, those are three pretty dark topics, but ones that need exposure to the light. They are dark cultural forces that are impacting many of our intellectually and developmentally disabled friends and loved ones. Sometimes we just can’t avoid exposing dark places when they are threatening people we love.
Of course, it’s practically impossible for all of us to avoid darkness, isn’t it? If we are tuned into the news, we know that the world is a mess. Our recent election saw ten more states with abortion on their ballots, and death won in seven. There is also an incessant drumbeat of war abroad that some are predicting could erupt into the next world war. If that isn’t enough, we’re barraged with horrific news of the extent of Canada’s Medical Aid in Dying (MAiD) program (now the country’s fifth leading cause of death) and the UK Parliament’s foolish vote to continue to advance similar legislation. Those are the topics I wrote about. We have to expose those dark things to the light.
He said the meek would inherit the earth, not the strong and powerful—the empire that engages in endless wars and supports the killing of innocents and the elderly.
But all these dark, death-dealing enterprises wouldn’t be happening if our society wasn’t asking for them—and that’s the most distressing part of the story. Some seventy-six percent of the general population in the UK, for example, indicated they believe terminally ill patients should be able to kill themselves with the support of a doctor. West Virginia only defeated a proposed constitutional amendment to allow assisted death by one percentage point: 50.5 percent to 49.5 percent, or just over 6,000 votes. That’s way too close. Both statistics are symptomatic of a deep sickness in society.
Where did we lose hope?
It seems like society is trapped in a death spiral—a positive feedback loop that forces us deeper into the darkness where many see no hope, only self-destructive despair. But why? Why all the darkness and despair?
Louise Perry wrote a piece in October 2023 published in First Things called “We Are Repaganizing.” It is an insightful piece that went a long way toward explaining the darkness and despair we find ourselves in today. She reminds us of life before Christ in pagan Rome, China, India, and Japan where unwanted or sickly babies were cast aside and unwanted baby girls killed in the hope of a baby boy the next time. She reminds us of a hierarchical social order that embraced slavery and saw no problem with rape just as long as the victim was below one’s social standing. Sound familiar?
The ancient world was barbaric. It was barbaric because it was pagan, in the sense that there was no social conscience formed by religion—at least a religion like Christianity that believes all lives have value, that none can be used by another to satisfy disordered desires, and that none can be discarded like refuse. We know society is losing that perspective, don’t we? As Louise Perry suggests, with Christianity on the wane, our culture is “repaganizing.”
Christ and the Transformation of Culture
Isaiah had prophesied that the people who walked in darkness would see a great light (Isa. 9:2), and that prediction eventually came true in a small backwater place in Judea called Bethlehem. That light, of course, was Divinity himself. It was the true hope of nations because it was God himself. Wise men recognized him and followed his light. The light eventually turned the old order upside down. Darkness knew the prophecy and feared him; it tried to retain its hegemony by killing all baby boys in the region, but it failed. At Christ’s crucifixion, too, darkness thought it had prevailed, but no. There its power was forever lost in the searing light of the Resurrection. The new dawn of that glorious day revealed the source of true hope to all who would believe.
“By the tender mercy of our God, the dawn from on high” came into the world as a gentle light glowing from a manger (Luke 1:78). The Child-king grew into a Man-king whose wisdom and counsel was that of God himself. He was God himself. He led a pagan culture out of darkness and “the shadow of death, to guide . . . [them] into the way of peace” (Luke 1:79). When the darkness was pierced by God’s love, the old order fell.
“Blessed are the poor in spirit, for theirs is the kingdom of heaven. Blessed are those who mourn, for they will be comforted. Blessed are the meek, for they will inherit the earth. Blessed are those who hunger and thirst for righteousness, for they will be filled. Blessed are the merciful, for they will receive mercy.” (Matt. 5:3–7)
Christ’s words were revolutionary. He said the meek would inherit the earth, not the strong and powerful—the empire that engages in endless wars and supports the killing of innocents and the elderly.
Yes, our culture is changing and darkness is threatening the light, but followers of the true light know darkness can never win. The misnamed, foul demon Lucifer (“Light-bearer,” as he was called) still confuses and deceives from his dark pit where Dante describes him frozen in the icy abyss of sin. It seems that more and more people are convinced by the devil’s lies of a new age and a Marxist utopia, but no—they are following a leader who is frozen in his defeat:
What, fallen from heaven, thou Lucifer, that once didst herald the dawn? Prostrate on the earth, that didst once bring nations to their knees? I will scale the heavens (such was thy thought); I will set my throne higher than God’s stars, take my seat at his own trysting-place, at the meeting of the northern hills; I will soar above the level of the clouds, the rival of the most High. Thine, instead, to be dragged down into the world beneath, into the heart of the abyss. Who that sees thee there, but will peer down at thee and read thy story: Can this be the man who once shook the world, and made thrones totter; who turned earth into a desert, its cities into ruins; never granted prisoner release? (Isa. 14:12–17, Knox)
Louise Perry reminds in her essay that T.S. Eliot, in a series of lectures he gave at Cambridge University in 1939, said that the West was at a fork in the road. It could either follow along the road of modern paganism or take the Christian path. The choice we are offered today is just that binary: light or darkness, a blessing or a curse, to serve God or mammon. It is so easy to be tempted toward the wrong path, but we know that path follows the one who has already lost—the one who lies in darkness in “the heart of the abyss.” Those tempted along that way are flirting with despair. Those on that way have accepted it. We must pray for them.
Christians don’t look down that path and despair. We celebrate at Christmas the light that beckons us from the manger, and we follow his star to find the same hope he first brought to a world in darkness. “God is light and in him there is no darkness at all. . . . If we walk in the light as he himself is in the light, we have fellowship with one another, and the blood of Jesus his Son cleanses us from all sin” (1 John 1:5, 7). We all have the privilege and duty to bring his light to those who are lost—to speak his truth into the darkness and radiate his light in a world in despair.
A light will shine upon us today, for the Lord is born to us,
and he will be called Wonderful God, Prince of peace,
The everlasting Father, and his kingdom will have no end.
(Introit for the Christmas Mass at Dawn, Roman Missal)
Rejoice in the light of the infant King, our wonderful God, and Prince of Peace. May his will be done on earth.
