Ross McCullough

Save us, O Holy Cross. Signpost of the times,Gnomon of the age,Axes of creation,Save us, O Holy Cross. Mast of a drifting planet,Plumb line of a crooked world,Knife of Caesar sectioning the globe,Downspout of the blood that waters the earth,Save us, O Holy Cross. Caltrop of the four . . . . Continue Reading »

They had evidently not read Stanley Hauerwas. There were perhaps no actual American flags in the visitor’s center—and anyway, this wasn’t a sanctuary—but even so, it’s hard to imagine a more American aesthetic. The brand was boardroom Christianity: well-manicured lawns; well-dressed staff; the whole place conference room clean. “Successful” was mentioned several times, for children, for careers, never in a way that would imply the cross (the martyrs, etc.) as a success. The sculpture of the resurrected Christ was a copy, apparently in plaster, of a nineteenth century Danish marble: that great highpoint of assimilated Christianity, made infamous by Kierkegaard, in its new world simulacrum. Continue Reading »

Most often the story is told like this: There is some feature of the world that science is at a loss to explain. Christians rush to claim that this feature can only be explained by God. Science later produces probable non-theistic hypotheses, and the Christians must beat a hasty retreat. In the . . . . Continue Reading »

At the end of The Searchers, John Wayne stands framed by the darkened doorway of a cabin, and with the dry scrub and John Ford vastness behind him he contemplates the house his successful search party has just entered. He looks inside for a second, half smiles, turns, and walks with his John Wayne . . . . Continue Reading »

How, then, shall he be a god, who has not as yet been made a man? —St. Irenaeus Malcolm Muggeridge entitled his reflection on Mother Teresa Something Beautiful for God. Perhaps the force of that expression does not immediately strike us, but consider how curious a statement it is: that here . . . . Continue Reading »