The Shield of Faith

In today's first reading from the Letter of St. Paul to the Ephesians, we heard about the "shield of faith" (Ephesians 6:16). In the ancient world, the shield went through a number of phases. In the heroic age, individual combat was the rule and a champion generally employed his shield without respect to others. But from time to time, one hero's shield would come to the aid of another, as in Book XI of the Iliad:

Three times [wounded Odysseus] called, as much voice as a man's head could hold,
and three times Menelaos the warlike heard him shouting
and immediately spoke to Aias, who was near by him:
'Son of Telamon, seed of Zeus, Aias, lord of the people...
let us go to [patient Odysseus] through the battle...'
Now Aias came near him, carrying like a wall his shield,
and stood forth beside him, and the Trojans fled one way and another.
Then taking Odysseus by the hand warlike Menelaos
led him from the battle... (XI.462-5, 469, 485-8)

And so the mighty Aias the Greater used his shield to protect Odysseus and pull him back to the safety of the Greek camp.

In classical Greece, warfare was no longer about heroic individual combat, but massed infantry, called a phalanx (seen left).  Discipline, holding the line, was key.  In this age, soldiers carried large round shields, the upper lip of which rested on their shoulder.  Because the shield was on his left arm, a soldier (called a hoplite) was well-protected on the left side, but his right was a little bare.  Here he depended upon the man to his right, and in turn the man to his left depended upon him.  Thus, if one man ran, the man to his left would be exposed and he too would run. Soon the whole line would fold.

In the Roman Republic, the manipular formation replaced the old Greek phalanx. Shields once again became an individual matter, tall rectangular things that did not overlap much with one's neighbor. But in certain situations (usually when storming enemy fortresses) the Roman legions would sometimes form a so-called tortoise formation (seen below), holding up their shields to create a box, protecting everyone inside.

Well, you can probably see where this is going... St. Paul not only spoke Greek, but could even quote the Greek poets (Acts 17:28). So whether he had in mind the epics of Homer, the battles of classical Greece or the contemporary military practice of the Romans, when he wrote the phrase, "the shield of faith," there would have been a communal quality attached to it. Faith is by its very nature intercessory: it not only protects us from "the flaming arrows of the Evil One," but we are also called to reach out with that faith to protect those around us. It is not always a fun thing to do - indeed, sharing our shield of faith in the midst of battle can be dangerous - but St. Paul seems to be calling us to nothing less.

Visiting the Dead

I was admonishing my students today that next time they are in the Federal City they need to make a trip across the river and visit the tomb of Field Marshall Sir John Dill in Arlington National Cemetery (pictured below). Dill did a great deal to preserve the Anglo-American alliance during World War II and a grateful American nation honored him after his death in November 1944 by awarding him the Distinguished Service Medal and allowing him to be buried in Arlington, complete with one of two equestrian statues in the whole place. Virtually everyone visiting Arlington passes Dill's grave. Few notice it.


Sunday, November 2nd, is All Soul's Day, the day the Catholic Church sets aside to pray in a special way for the dead. Traditionally, this has included visiting a cemetery to pray for those interred there. I would encourage all of you - particularly those of you living in or near the Federal City - to take some time out of your Sunday to visit the tombs of the deceased and to pray for them. Though I'll be on the road in the morning, I hope to make a visit to the College Station Cemetery that afternoon.

Geographical Celibacy

I am generally sympathetic to the values and arguments of localism. I still vote in all the city, county and school district elections back home in Arizona. I favor the repeal of the 17th Amendment (direct election of senators) to focus concerns away from the national government and back to the state legislatures. And I oppose statehood for the District of Columbia, on the principle that no one should be from the Federal City, which belongs to all the states; no one's loyalty should be to the entity which exists only to contain the national government.

In spite of this general sympathy with localism, I have not been a particularly shining example of its notions. It has been years since I read a local newspaper on a regular basis; my daily reading is the international Financial Times. Since 2002 I have lived in four different metropolitan areas, in three states and the Federal City. (Not to mention a semester in the Eternal City.) Moreover, I hope to return to the Federal City, quite possibly living out my days there. Though I sometimes buy local products - such as honey in Arizona - I cannot really claim to know anything about local markets. My sense of music is national or even international in scope; I can name few local acts for any of the places that I have lived. And though I have many friends in the Brookland neighborhood of Washington, where I once lived, I cannot claim to have really known any of my immediate neighbors at this or any of my previous houses, except the one in which I grew up.

Am I simply a hypocrite, living a contradiction?, I asked myself not too long ago. Well, that is probably part of it. But there is also another explanation at work. In the past, I have made three moves, each of approximately 1,500 miles. Why? It has been an educational calling, at each stage going to the best school I could find (and afford) in the field in question. And in the future, why will I probably end up in the Federal City? Because I hope to teach diplomatic and military history to a rising generation of foreign policy practitioners. In each case, the lure of local life has been overruled by a particular call, a vocation. The result is a sort of geographical celibacy, a renunciation of many of the joys of place, of a home, in order to serve in a different way.

If there is a certain amount of validity to this line of thought - and I would like to think there is - that does not necessarily give me or anyone else a carte blanche to ignore local life. Even amidst the frequent moves and the awkwardness of Federal City's special case, I can - indeed, must - try to enter into and contribute to the local community, the local discourse. That is not always an easy thing to do in a here-today-gone-tomorrow situation, but I guess that is just one of the consequences of geographic celibacy, being a sojourner in strange lands.

Photo credit: I believe this picture is the work of Miss Abigail Jovanovich.

Catholic Vote 2008

A bit melodramatic, perhaps, but a good reminder that, amidst all the talking heads and humorous commentary, real things are at stake in this election.

www.CatholicVote.com

How should we sponsor art?

How do artists make a living at something that is, in a strictly economic sense, useless and unprofitable?

Most importantly for my purposes today, where should they get their money from?

I just read an article claiming that in America about 90% of art is sponsored by private means, and 10% of the money comes from government subsidies. In certain European countries, on the other hand, the numbers are the other way around; governments there subsidize 90% of art, while private donations make up the other 10%.

The author of the article also implied that it is rather crass for private corporations to sponsor so much art, as if the millionaires were saying, “Art is a luxury, not a necessity. And you owe this luxury to Mr. Moneybags.” The author of the article obviously held just the opposite, that art is a necessity that should be provided for by the state.

As we all can recognize, however, private corporations aren’t the only organizations with ulterior motives for supporting certain artists over others. How many state subsidies for art go to completely unworthy artists because they are friends of a politician or because they support a certain political agenda? Neither government nor private enterprise is safe from trying to use art for its own purposes.

At the same time, however, it is obvious that many great works of art are due to the patronage of government (e.g. court painters) or business (e.g. Charles Dickens writing for profitable magazines).

Where, then, should the money come from? Should it come from the government, from private corporations, or from somewhere else? Is there a best solution?

The Soloist - Trailer

Could be promising...

Autumn

'Tis the season - up here at least, since the South has some time left of summer, I think. This is still the best poem I have come across in describing autumn, perhaps because, as a friend once noted, it's more about the mood, a kind of melancholy, than a pictoral description.

The Wild Swans at Coole - W.B. Yeats

THE TREES are in their autumn beauty,
The woodland paths are dry,
Under the October twilight the water
Mirrors a still sky;
Upon the brimming water among the stones
Are nine and fifty swans.

The nineteenth Autumn has come upon me
Since I first made my count;
I saw, before I had well finished,
All suddenly mount
And scatter wheeling in great broken rings
Upon their clamorous wings.

I have looked upon those brilliant creatures,
And now my heart is sore.
All’s changed since I, hearing at twilight,
The first time on this shore,
The bell-beat of their wings above my head,
Trod with a lighter tread.

Unwearied still, lover by lover,
They paddle in the cold,
Companionable streams or climb the air;
Their hearts have not grown old;
Passion or conquest, wander where they will,
Attend upon them still.

But now they drift on the still water
Mysterious, beautiful;
Among what rushes will they build,
By what lake’s edge or pool
Delight men’s eyes, when I awake some day
To find they have flown away?