The mission of The St. Croix Review is to end the destruction of America by reestablishing the family as the center of American life, restoring economic prosperity to an independent middle class, and reviving a culture of tradition.

Editor’s Note: The following essay was published by Angus MacDonald in December 2004. Angus MacDonald was the founder of The St. Croix Review in 1968.

An Old-fashioned Christmas

The following will be welcome relief after an acrimonious election. It was written more than 40 years ago.

Born in Australia in the automobile era, having lived always in cities, and, worst of all, having had my childhood in a land without snow, I am without firsthand knowledge of an old-fashioned Christmas. Perhaps this is why my interest in the old-fashioned celebration is keener than that of some, for when I think of Santa Claus dressed in a red suit, lined with fur, and sweating in the hot sun of summer, which was my childhood experience, I dream of what it must have been in a land of snow and ice, horses and sleds, and of clear, tinkling bells whose sounds carried far in crisp night air.

There was a time when streets were not cleared of snow, for the snow was left to pack so that the passage of the sleds would be easier. Father would drive the team of horses to the horse-headed hitching post at the front of the house, while the family would run from the house to tumble into a bed of golden oat straw a foot thick, covering themselves with buffalo robes. The whip would flick over the rumps of the horses, and they would break into a brisk trot, the runners hissing, making a tearing sound, as the weight of the vehicle pressed down, and the bells hanging from the harness would begin their tinkling. Along the way would be other horses, so that progress was from one set of bells to another, and if sometimes they came to a thin-tired automobile being helped up slippery slopes by a willing horse, it was easily understood that these noisome, smoking nuisances would not be around much longer, for only a fool would want such an awkward, unpredictable, expensive, dirty conveyance when there were available at less cost clean and comfortable sleds, moving quickly, silently, surely.

Trotting gallantly in a landscape of little hills, off the main road to the family farm, through fields where watermelons were planted in the summer because of the sandy loam, heavy groves of timber, perhaps black walnut, then to the house with oaks on one side and apple trees on the other, the bobsled would be brought to the front door in a great flourish of speed.

The ladies went straight into the house to help prepare the great meal that was to come, but there were other duties for the men before they could lay aside their outdoor clothes. The team must be unhitched and taken to the barn, covered with blankets, and given grain. The barn was another world, with the body heat of many animals weighing a thousand pounds or more; pigs in a corner making their crude grunts; milk cattle muzzling the manger for wisps of hay; horses eyeing the newcomers, rolling their eyes; steaming manure; the smell of harness rubbed with Neatsfoot Oil so that it would remain soft; the smell of ensilage in the silo where the fodder was almost fermenting. Air smelling heavy with a weight from living things might make one feel that the thin air of the outside world was a weak thing, ethereal, with no health in it. It is Christmas, and one no longer thinks the Christ child was unfortunate to be born in a stable, for the first air He breathed was air fit for a king.

Before the days of central heating, the kitchen was the largest room in the house, with all family living taking place there, except for sleeping. Along one wall would be a couch, where father would take a nap, and where the children would lie when they were ill. A huge kitchen range was the prominent object of the room, black and gleaming, with pans in the holes above the firebox, a reservoir of hot water at the side lined with copper, the only supply of hot water in the house, and a box of wood by the stove on the floor, with the job of keeping it filled belonging to the children.

As with all meals, Christmas dinner was cooked and eaten in the kitchen, with most of the food coming from the farm. The pies would have been cooked the day before, pumpkin, apple, and mince; looking out of the window one could see the field where the pumpkins had grown and the orchard from which the apples came. There would be cottage cheese, with dripping bags of curds still hanging from the cold cellar ceiling; a huge crock of beans with smoked pork from the hog butchered in November. There would be every kind of preserve: wild grape from the vines in the grove, crabapple jelly, wild blackberry and tame raspberry, strawberry from the bed in the garden, sweet and sour pickles with dill from the edge of the lane where it grew wild, pickles from the rind of the watermelon that had been cooled in the tank of the milk house and eaten on a hot September afternoon. All of the meat eaten would have been grown on the farm, and the most useful meat was goose.

The down was plucked, washed, and hung in bags for later stuffing in pillows; the awkward body was roasted until the skin was crisp as fine paper; the grease of the carcass was melted down, given a little camphor, and rubbed on the chests of coughing children. They ate, slept on, and wore goose. Bread, of course, would be hot from the oven. If the smells of the barn were full of health, adding something to the air breathed, the same was true of the kitchen. No warmer, richer place could be found.

Two chores had to be performed before the family ate. First, someone had to run to the milk house for cream. Second, someone had to grind the coffee beans, adding another smell to the already spicy air. The home was presided over by an immigrant, probably from Germany, and he would ask a blessing in his native tongue, then in English for the ignorant grandchildren. “Come, Lord Jesus, be our guest. Share this food you have blessed.” Every scrap of food brought to the Lord for blessing had been grown by that same farmer, produce grown in an average year with decent work, enough rain, and proper plowing and manure.

In one corner of the kitchen was a tree cut in the grove, covered with paper ornaments made by the children and beautiful ones brought from the old country. There were popcorn balls, paper horns, homemade candy, and apples from the orchard. The gifts were hand-knit socks and mufflers, crocheted yokes for nightgowns, tatted collars for blouses, doilies with flower patterns to put on tables, tidies for chairs, and handmade toys for the little children. The tree boasted real candles with real flames, with every guest sniffing the air for the dangerous smell of scorching pine needles. No tree lit with electricity, and certainly no tree made with aluminum, could compare with the tree whose crown was living fire, and no modern tree can suggest with any force the true flame that was born of Joseph and Mary on the original cold night.

The great feast was an ordeal as well as a triumph, for everyone ate more than necessary, loosening belts during the meal, and napping afterward. Late in the afternoon the ladies would gesture at the hot water by the side of the stove, reflecting on the necessary repair of dirty dishes, the men would go to the barn to look at the livestock, an older boy might take a new .22 rifle and stalk a fox he imagined he saw, while smaller children would get sleds and slide in a long snake down the hills, feet hooked into the sled behind. Bones would be given to the dogs. Suet would be hung for the juncos and chickadees; crumbs scattered for the cardinals who would be dropping out of the sky like drops of blood; and a saucer of milk would be set for the cats, daintily and disgustedly with their padded feet picking their way through the snow.

The day would be completed with the singing of carols, for there was no television in those far-off days to tempt people to rely on someone else for entertainment. Several could play the piano or reed organ, and all were used to singing. Then the visitors bundled up, each and every one thanked the others for gifts, and the basket was filled higher than when it was brought, from the many leftovers. The men would have brought the team of horses to the door, and the rest of the family went out into the freezing air. The travelers would dig deep into the straw and pull buffalo robes over them, and while “Goodbye! Goodbye!” was called out by each to the others, the horses would break into a trot, the bells on the harness would sing their song, and the hiss of the runners comforted the tired children as they began to fall asleep. As they looked up at the sky from half-closed eyelids, it would seem that the stars might fall into their laps; but the great star in the east never wavered. They knew that nothing could shake it from the sky as they traveled home on Christmas.

For good or for ill, the simple, beautiful Christmas of days gone by can never return, and our luxurious way of life compels us to find new ways for the preservation of the eternal message. Our difficulty, compared with earlier days, is that we have become urban, city-dwellers, separated from the soil. Man is wedded to the soil more closely than our industrial, urban life has recognized; and in this fact lies our difficulties as well as the cheapening of the Christmas celebration. A city is the home of civilization in the most sophisticated expression of the term, for here are friends, books, museums, and artists, all concentrated so that one may know each other and each of the arts, and we recall that Socrates looked on the country with utter disdain, lacking as it was in civilized achievements, never walking outside of Athens unless he were compelled to do so by an emergency; but we are not Socrates, and few are those able to retain civilized habits unless they are brought to simplicity by proximity to the soil. This is the reason for presenting the old-fashioned Christmas: to remind us of the beauty of simple lives. The essence of Christmas is to be with our family and to remember, with our loved ones close by, that this is a holy season, consecrated by the celebration of God entering human affairs in the person of a humble babe. If we recall that the meaning of the event is that God has become flesh to dwell among us, no matter what century in which we live and no matter the peculiarity of our habits, we shall be sound in our observance.     *

The Inaugurating Editorial of The St. Croix Review

Angus MacDonald

Angus MacDonald founded Religion & Society, the educational foundation that publishes The St. Croix Review, in February 1968. The following is his first editorial.

With this issue, we are offering another magazine to the American public. Because there are many excellent magazines, such a venture can be undertaken only if there is a clear and urgent need.

The hope is to clarify the religious bases of society. Our belief is that few magazines are speaking to the true heart of America. On the one hand there are the so-called liberal magazines distributed by the large denominational publishing houses. These are not sure of what they believe in religion, having turned to politics as a substitute for the traditional expressions of their faith. For example, it was once thought that the best way to improve the circumstances of the poor was to bring the gospel to them. People were encouraged to have a strong faith in themselves, and in God, and they were encouraged to be the best men and women they were capable of being. If they lacked ambition, they were counseled to be clean and to be happy. Poverty being no disgrace, indeed, being thought for the greater part of the Christian tradition to be one of the greatest virtues, the poor were taught to be virtuous. Now, the goal of the journals published by the major denominations is to counsel the poor to seize what they consider desirable. There is an advocacy of revolution. Religious leaders, calling themselves “churchmen,” are of the opinion that the ills of society will be cured by political legislation rather than by counsels of individual worthiness. Some of us remain of the opinion that we should be Christian, each one of us, rich and poor alike, and that this preachment offers the only real blessing. “Seek first the kingdom of his righteousness, and all these things shall be yours as well.” We shall serve those who are interested in preserving traditions of individual responsibility.

With their commitment to political revolution and with a lack of clarity in what they believe, except in political action, liberal journals are horrendously inadequate. So, I fear are most of the conservative journals. These latter are sound in their instincts. They desire to preserve our heritage. They are horrified at the exchange of Christian faith for political activism, and they rightly perceive the abyss toward which we are blindly rushing. They believe in the efficacy of the Christian faith rather than in a churchly power structure that will be able coerce the government or any dissident individual. The limitation of the conservative journals is that they react to present evils so strongly that they fail to engage the liberals on their own terms. They oppose to the authority of the church institution and the government the authority of the Bible. They say that if the Bible is not accepted as the ultimate authority we are left with only the authority of men, either in church or state, and the end in either case is dictatorship. Much is to be said for this position, it being a hundred times sounder than the position of the liberals. The fact is, however, that Americas do not desire to submit either to the authority of the church, of the government, or of the Bible. Americans won’t believe something because it is in the Bible; they insist that it be obviously true. Americans demand freedom and intelligence.

We are being confronted with two distasteful choices: either we shall accept the liberal premises and advance a totalitarian state, or we shall be conservatives and run the danger of religious fanaticism.

Americans are confused and lonely. They dislike what is happening to their country and to their churches, but they are unable to find an expression of their true beliefs. The faith is present, but it lies hidden, implicit, waiting for someone to bring it forth and put it in clear words. We shall address ourselves to this task, believing that the need is urgent. Various men of national repute will write for the paper: Howard F. Kershner, Russell Kirk, William F. Rickenbacker, Samuel J. Mikolaski, Edmund A. Opitz, Irving E. Howard. The editor will use the space allotted to him as circumstances suggest what is wise. He may submit articles as illustrations of one man’s attempt to express the fundamental relevance of our Christian faith. He may comment on the passing scene, if he has something to say that is not being said in other journals. Having spent much energy over many years in the pursuit of religious literature that is sensible, and believing that an acquaintance with sound religious classics is uncommon, he may name and discuss important books that must be kept in print. How well known, for example, is Irving Babbitt’s Rousseau and Romanticism, yet this fertile book is basic as a critique of style, in understanding the nature of imagination, and as an analysis of our intellectual heritage. This book, in the judgment of the editor, illustrates the type of thinking to which religion must return if it hopes to contribute toward the preservation of civilization.

We solicit your support. We believe that our country is in need of a journal such as the one we are launching.     *

Under God
 

Editorial — Angus MacDonald

This essay was published in December 2005. Angus MacDonald founded The St. Croix Review in February 1968. This December 2017 issue of The St. Croix Review marks the completion of 50 years of publishing.

The true fortitude of the sage places honor not in glory but in conduct, and aspires to be first in deed rather than in name. —Marcus Cicero
 

We have those who would remove the Ten Commandments from public places, deny the use of prayer in public schools, pressure us to remove “In God We Trust” from our coins, and delete from the pledge of allegiance “Under God.” They deny a large and, some would say, the most important part of our heritage and would usher in chaos. If God is not supreme, who is?

A few years ago my dentist asked me to officiate at his wedding. I was glad to do so even when he told me he was an atheist. As a matter of fact I was pleased and flattered. He felt he could be honest. My comment was that discussion of God had to begin with understanding what we mean by the word.

God is that than which there is no greater, and the definition we give of God is determined by what we consider to be the greatest. For many people, money is that than which there is no greater. For some, God is defined by sex, or power, or business, or golf. Nobler objects of worship are families, help to those in need, scholarship. People do not lack a belief in God. Their definition of God is inadequate.

No society has been without a belief in God, but they have had trouble defining what they mean by the word. The most common definition says God is that which created the world. The simplest societies defined God in this way and are referred to as animists. It is easy to define God as the creator because creation is an enormous fact to which we must be obedient. The problem with this definition is that the world is a splendid beast, but is not the heavenly father we want God to be — our help in trouble, that which claims our souls for holiness.

God has been defined historically in two ways: in terms of natural law and as an inner response of the soul.

Theories of natural law come to us from the writings of Rome and Greece and Jewish and Christian teaching. There is a law common to all men, in conformity with nature, which commends what is good and condemns what is bad. Men deviate from what they know is good, but they know they deviate. In our pornographic society, when television and print are committed to vulgarity, all but beasts know there is a dignity that is lost. In response to present evil, there are those who condemn vulgarity and call for holiness.

They respond to a natural law written in the human heart to which all pay homage — Asian, European, African. This natural law is universal and immutable.

In our European tradition, the natural law is detailed in the Ten Commandments:

“Thou shall not kill. Thou shall not commit adultery. Thou shall not steal. Thou shall not bear false witness.”

These truths are acknowledged in all societies save the brutish and unstable. Jesus of Nazareth was crucified because he detested and rebelled against hypocrisy and because he taught goodness with simplicity and gave practical illustrations. His world rejected decency and is condemned for all time. He proved there is a distinction between good and evil.

I suppose there are writers who believe we can survive without values, but they must be mad. The best writers call us to God. They may not use that word, but that is what they mean and what we need if they and we are to preserve our reason.

Some years ago I saw a television program that portrayed a lovely lady who lived on some island in the Pacific. You could tell from her face she was saintly because she radiated something special, different from Hollywood glamour. Her life was committed to God’s will and the doing of what was right. Who was the God this innocent person worshipped? He was the immense rock in the sand, just feet away from the ocean. She prayed to this rock, asked for guidance, and obeyed the instructions that came to her.

She was an ignorant fool? No. In her simplicity the rock was an instrument for righteousness, a vehicle to godliness to which she was obedient. We need such a rock, and so does the United States. If we do not, we shall fall into chaos.     *

“The real measure of your wealth is how much you’d be worth if you lost all your money.” —Bernard Meltzer

What Is Religion?

Angus MacDonald

Angus MacDonald published this editorial in April, 2002. Angus died in December, 2011.

No society ever existed without a religion, but we are not sure what religion is. There are at least nine major religions: Hinduism, Buddhism, Confucianism, Taoism, Zoroastrianism, Shintoism, and the ones we know chiefly — Judaism, Islam, and Christianity; but there have been scores of others that arose because of fear, fear of death, and the unknown. People avoided the unknown and secured good fortune by prayers to spirits in the winds, which blew good and bad luck. Everything had a soul because everything teemed with life — mountains, rivers, rocks, trees, sun, moon, and stars. (Our modern environmentalists and our romantic poets would be comfortable with ancient animists.) People dreamed, and the dreams were so real they believed the objects of their dreams existed as ghosts, or their fathers and mothers and other loved ones lived in another world and watched over them. They prayed to their ancestors and left food for them. This is how religion began.

How did people outgrow primitivism? They became agriculturists and then they gathered in cities. They had to live together without fighting; traditions of civility became necessary. One clan had to protect itself from another clan; cooperation between clans made people think of war and peace. Marriage and sex and parental concern demanded rules of behavior. How could one keep what he earned, or protect home, land, and possessions and pass them on to others? Some were aggressive and refused to obey rules and traditions. Punishment, law, police, armies arose to insist on rules.

As people gathered in cities they founded little industries that brought comfort, protection, and some luxuries. Traders met traders from distant lands, so that intelligence was sharpened. Because of wealth, or choice if they had no wealth, some gave up making a living by trade or commerce and discussed life; producing in time science, philosophy, art, and literature. This led to a religion without superstition that would tame passions and lead to peace and prosperity. Religion came into being to protect morals and create necessary rules and regulations. The function of religion was not to invent morals and traditions but to present them to the public so there would be peace and good order. The function of religion was and is to preserve good morals.

In the sixth century before Christ, Confucius observed the moral chaos of his time where people did not know the difference between right and wrong. He said that the remedy was a moral regeneration based on family life and this would be achieved more quickly if leaders set a good example. Proper conduct would pour down on the people. Confucius was made a magistrate of a small town, and under his leadership dishonesty was ashamed to raise its head, good faith was common, and women were chaste.

About the same time as Confucius, Buddha taught that people must govern themselves with decent principles. The good man did not kill any living thing, never stole what belonged to another, never spoke falsely, never drank intoxicants, and was chaste. Repressing desire, and becoming lost in the mystery of life, the faithful Buddhist would die in peace and quietly disappear into nirvana.

The Christian tradition was odd; growing from a tradition of one who was gentle, wrote nothing, and did little of consequence in his lifetime. His influence was so great that Rome fell before it. The greatest power in the world collapsed under the gentle Jesus. His disciples built an organization greater than that of the Roman Empire, or any other empire, and lives in our day. In the history of the Christian church, the strands of gentleness and intolerance have been interwoven so that evil has been mixed with good, yet even in times of un-Christian behavior, the person of Jesus rose above the church.

Religion is how we behave, but we talk more than we do. We cannot help but make theories; but when we elevate theory to a level that we forget why we have theories, religion is replaced by theology; or practice is replaced by theory. We can easily criticize the church for its faults with its liturgy and unfathomable dogmas; but we are not to forget that the church led its faithful during dreadful days of poverty and war; holding them together, giving them something to believe, solace, a world of beauty and hope that was in stark contrast with the world about them. In the midst of barbarism and a cruel hardness, when the institution of the church was far from perfect, the influence of the gentle Jesus tempered cruelty and brought traditions of chivalry. It elevated women to more than chattel property. In the late medieval age, Will Durant said:

“Europe achieved for a century that international morality for which it prays and struggles today — a law that shall raise states out of their jungle code, and free the energies of men for the battles and victories of peace” —The Story of Civilization, IV, 844.

What, then, is religion? Religion is the sum total of our behavior, good or bad. Religion is the attitude that we bring to the world. Religion is our ultimate concern, the grasp on us of what is holy, absolute, gives direction, meaning, and depth to what we do. Religion is the reaction of conscience to what we face. Religion is our reaction to a sense of right and wrong so that, aroused by evil, we do something about it. Religion becomes alive when we act. That religion is universal is proved by the fact that everyone has a conscience and recognizes a difference between good and bad, right and wrong.

Obviously, not all religions are reputable. Islam in our day, as it is expressed before the world, is barbaric because it is cruel and hateful. It teaches hate. That is the end of the matter. Notwithstanding Muslims say their religion is of peace, it includes cruelty. The Koran is the word of God. Nonsense. The Koran was written by a man who was imperfect, by his own confession, and must be modified by improved conscience. There was a time when the Bible was held to be the literal word of God. That, also, is not true. The Bible was written by men who were children of their time. Much of what they said was and is of worth, but not all they said is of worth. Read the Psalms. We must make distinctions. Today in Afghanistan the rulers in Kabul continue to amputate the hands of those who steal, and kill adulterers, because that is what the Koran demands. If that is what the Koran demands, it must not be followed.

What are the responsibilities of Christians today? The responsibilities of Christians today are to preach the traditional moral values of that faith in the context of a society that restricts that teaching on the public level. Christian teaching is forbidden in schools or public places because of the separation of Church and State. That doctrine is no part of the U.S. Constitution. The U.S. Constitution says:

“Congress shall make no law respecting an establishment of religion, or prohibiting the free exercise thereof; or abridging the freedom of speech, or of the press, or the right of the people peaceably to assemble, and to petition the Government for a redress of grievances.”

A religion is established by the state when the state regulates the structure and doctrine of the church, and the state pays the expenses of the church. That is what establishment of religion has always meant. To argue that cadets at the Virginia Military Academy cannot say grace before a meal because it presumes the establishment of a church is nonsense and contrary to several hundred years of tradition. So is it nonsense for the State of Ohio to refuse to use the word “God” in its constitution because that is an infringement on the meaning of the first amendment. So is it nonsense to forbid having a nativity scene on church property. And so on with many restrictions of the Christian tradition. We are not supposed to say in public “In God We Trust,” though that is minted on our coins.

The reason for such decisions is that those proposing these changes do not believe in the Christian faith, or in any faith, but insist on the dominance of what they believe, whatever that is. They will not permit freedom of belief to those different from themselves. To say others can believe in private what they believe but not confess their faith in public places is contrary to secularist practice: Secularists insist on domination in public for their point of view.

The point of view of the dominant culture is illustrated by permission to sell or give condoms to children of primary school age. It is permissible to teach God is dead, that St. Paul was a homosexual, have a Christian symbol in a vase of urine, all in public places, in the name of freedom of speech and religion; but it is not permissible for Christians to gather for prayer after school, not in school, but after school. Not only are Christians forbidden to express their faith, but the movement is advancing to forbid the teaching of American history in public schools. New Jersey is rewriting textbooks that do not speak of Washington, Jefferson, and Benjamin Franklin. Political correctness is defaming the country and repudiating both Christian and American beliefs.

The function of the church and of religion is to preach the faith. Rather than submit to the demands for silence in public places, rather than absorb the political correctness of society, it must preach the sacred message. Vulgarity is now common in humor and casual conversation, not by the so-called lower classes, but by those who think themselves elite. There is something wrong with a society when a six-year-old shoots another six-year-old, when high schools harbor murderers and have police patrol the corridors. It seems as though we are a culture of violence and corruption. We are not of course, and these dreadful actions are by the sick minority. Television gives the wrong impression. We must not allow television to create evil or permit television to be our only preachers. The church must create an environment where evil is confronted and righteousness proclaimed. President Bush makes a distinction between good and evil, right and wrong. So must the church preach the distinction between right and wrong, good and evil. Is the church silent because it is afraid of being demonized by the secularists? In more than twenty-five years in the same church, I recall a preacher referring in passing to “these filthy programs on television,” but this expression of moral outrage was given only once in my recollection.

Perhaps we are too hard on the church. I grew up in a congregation of unlettered faithful and our preachers were not much better educated, but there was a sense of right and wrong that was known to each member of the church. Whatever the personal lives of the people might have been, they knew the meaning of proper behavior. They absorbed a culture formed by those who went before. We must do the same for our children, not only in our personal lives but in the institutions we create.

At the moment, the church is absorbed in piety; that is not enough. There is beauty and moral instruction in the liturgy of the church, but piety alone can be an escape from our obligation to state clearly the moral principles we must observe in daily practice. We can raise liturgy and traditional practice to such an elevation that we become cowards, letting tradition replace courage. When St. Paul was converted, he became a new man, a doer. The new law by which he lived was appropriate action. Meister Eckhart, a famous mystic of the 14th century, was as distinguished for his practical work as much as his persuasive preaching. In contemplation, he said, one serves himself, but in deeds he serves others. Goethe said that knowledge that does not lead to action is vain and poisonous. St. Francis taught that a man has only so much knowledge as he puts to work.

The church must speak of the family, character, freedom, honesty, responsibility, marriage, divorce, homosexuality, abortion, and the sacredness of life. We talk of justice because that is politically correct, but it is not justice we speak of most of the time but a fathering of racism that lowers blacks in their self-esteem. Marriage between a man and a woman, we are told by those who are politically correct, is only one alternative with homosexuality and lesbianism. This is taught in our schools, undermining the sacredness of the family. Homosexuality and lesbianism are not the norm. We should say so. There is room in society for some to live with differently, but we are not to agree with them that their choice is of equal with the traditional family. Man and Woman God Made Them, and They Shall Be One Flesh.

“The ancient Stoics were in the same ignorance as seekers today who are no longer Christian. They had no authoritarian revelation, no word of God to teach them the nature of the world in which they found themselves, no divine code of laws to tell them what to do. They looked about and beheld sorrow, disease, old age, maladjustments of all sorts, wars between states, civil strife, contentions among neighbors, earthquakes, and tempests. Such was the world then; it is not very different now” —Things that Count, H. D. Sedgwick, p. 29.     *

The Founding Editorial

Angus MacDonald

Angus MacDonald founded The St. Croix Review in February, 1968. This essay is his first editorial in volume1, number 1.

With this issue, we are offering another magazine to the American public. Because there are many excellent magazines, such a venture can be undertaken only if there is a clear and urgent need.

The hope is to clarify the religious bases of society. Our belief is that few magazines are speaking to the true heart of America. On the one hand are the so-called liberal magazines distributed by the large denominational publishing houses. These are not sure of what they believe in religion, having turned to politics as a substitute for the traditional expressions of our faith. For example, it was once thought that the best way to improve the circumstances of the poor was to bring the gospel to them. People were encouraged to have a strong faith in themselves and in God, and they were encouraged to be the best men and women they were capable of being. If they lacked ambition, they were counseled to be clean and to be happy. Poverty being no disgrace, indeed, being thought for the greater part of the Christian tradition to be one of the greatest virtues, the poor were taught to be virtuous. Now, the goal of the journals published by the major denominations is to counsel the poor to seize what they consider desirable. There is an advocacy of revolution. Religious leaders, calling themselves “churchmen,” are of the opinion that the ills of society will be cured by political legislation rather than by counsels of individual worthiness. Some of us remain of the opinion that we should be Christian, each one of us, rich and poor alike, and that this preachment offers the only real blessing. “Seek first his kingdom and his righteousness, and all these things shall be yours as well.” We shall serve those who are interested in preserving traditions of individual responsibility.

With their commitment to political revolution and with a lack of clarity in what they believe, except in political actions, liberal journals are horrendously inadequate. So, I fear are most of the conservative journals. These latter are sound in their instincts. They desire to preserve our heritage. They believe in the efficacy of the Christian faith rather than in a churchly power structure that will be able to coerce the government or any dissident individual. The limitation of the conservative journals is that they react to present evils so strongly that they fail to engage the liberals on their own terms. They oppose to the authority of the church institution and the government the authority of the Bible. They say that if the Bible is not accepted as the ultimate authority we are left with only the authority of men, either in church or state, and the end is either case is dictatorship. Much is to be said for this position, it being a hundred times sounder than the position of the liberals. The fact is, however, that Americans do not desire to submit either to the authority of the church, the government, or the Bible. Americans won’t believe something because it is in the Bible; they insist that it be obviously true. Americans demand freedom and intelligence.

We are being confronted with two distasteful choices: either we shall accept the liberal premises and advance a totalitarian state, or we shall be conservatives and run the danger of religious fanaticism.

Americans are confused and lonely. They dislike what is happening to their country and to their churches, but they are unable to find an expression of their true beliefs. The faith is present, but it lies hidden, implicit, waiting for someone to bring it forth and put it in clear words. We shall address ourselves to this task, believing that the need is urgent. Various men of national repute will write for the paper: Howard F. Kershner, Russell Kirk, William F. Rickenbacker, Samuel J. Mikolaski, Edmund A. Opitz, Irving E. Howard. The editor will use the space allotted to him as circumstances suggest what is wise. He may submit articles as illustrations of one man’s attempt to express the fundamental relevance of our Christian faith. He may comment on the passing scene, if he has something to say that is not being said in other journals. Having spent much energy over many years in the pursuit of religious literature that is sensible, and believing that an acquaintance with sound religious classics is uncommon, he may name and discuss important books that must be kept in print. How well known, for example, is Irving Babbitt’s Rosseau and Romanticism, yet this fertile book is basic as a critique of style, in understanding the nature of imagination, and as an analysis of our intellectual heritage. This book, in the judgment of the editor, illustrates the type of thinking to which religion must return if it hopes to contribute toward the preservation of civilization.

We solicit your support. We believe that our country is in need of a journal such as the one we are launching.