The Simplicity of Christ

The Catholic Church is such a complex mixture of Christianity and Paganism that many have looked into her eyes and found her impossible to escape.

She is like a strange, exotic lover whose mystique is irresistible.

She is a Byzantine labyrinth of idols, saints, and spirits, of purgatory, heaven and hell, queen and king, father and son, and holy spirit, of mediators, saviors, and deities.

Her swirling ornaments glitter hypnotically, seductively saving all who would resist Her.

Her library excels with manuscripts of wisdom and knowledge, arts and prayers, Popes and intrigues. A treasure-trove of tradition.

Glorious melismas proceed from her lips.

The chambers of her praises resonate with alleluias and hosannas, glorias and credos, Kyries and Agnus Deis.

She is a master of multiplicities. She leads the processions. She officiates the weddings. She entombs her living dead.

Her wardrobe excels with vestments from afar. As the ambassador of gospel she is well suited to all her suitors. From Indonesia to America, from Mexico to Italy, from Peru to France, from South Africa to Spain, she is impeccably adorned for every occasion and paramour.

Her pantry is full of bread and blood. She entertains her guests with life and death. The bouquet of Her wine blossoms forth as the oil of red roses.

We nurse at her breasts. We drink of her milk. We ride upon her hips. She is our warmth, our heat. She is a flame of fire, a magnificent flame of fire, a towering torch, a blinding light. She is the Sun, and we are her kindling.

She is a cathedral of worship of saints and angels, of icons, of gold, of fine tapestries, of pillars of swirling marble, of gems, of incense, of perfumes beyond compare. She is glorious. She is exalted. She is the Queen of Heaven with her high priest and red cloaked ministers. Pontiff and Cardinals perched upon the power of Rome. Humanity flying with the wings of Lucifer.

How highly she is exalted. How mightily she rules the earth. She is magnificent, she is bewitching, she is beguiling, she is cunning, she is philosophical, she is understanding and comforting, she is charitable, compassionate, and loving. She is our Messiah. She is our God.

But I fear, lest by any means, as the serpent beguiled Eve through his subtlety, so my mind should be corrupted from the simplicity that is in Christ.

She is a house of mirrors, of trap doors, of dead-end hallways and secret compartments. A temple of deception. A masterpiece of man's humanity and Satan's artifice. She is the Mystery of Iniquity. She is Death.

By Charles G. Marlowe 2001