A classic theme in the narration of the apparitions: the Three Marys.
This detail of a painting in the Maestà by Duccio, mentioned in an earlier entry, seems to have captured the gesture of serene surprise at the angel’s announcement in the fictional tale that the Gospel of Matthew sold us. In the hands of these pious women we see the knobs of the balm with which they were preparing to anoint the body of the crucified Jew.
Let us compare today’s Europeans with the Spartans. We feel panic when encountering such physical, mental and spiritual degeneration; such stultification. European man, who used to be the hardest and most courageous of Earth, has become a weakling rag and degenerated biologically as a result of comfort. His mind is weak; his spirit fragile, and on top of that he considers himself the summit of the creation. But that man, just because of the blood he carries, has enormous potential.
The rules on which Sparta was seated were eternal and natural, as valid today as yesterday, but today the dualistic mens sana in corpore sano has been forgotten: the physical form has been abandoned producing soft, puny and deformed monsters; and the mental poisoning has produced similar abominations in the realm of the spirit.
The modern European knows no pain, no honour, no blood, no war, no sacrifice, no camaraderie, no respect or combat; and thus he does not know the ancient and gentle Goddesses known as Gloria or Victoria.
(Passages from one of Evropa Soberana’s essays in The Fair Race’s Darkest Hour.)
In previous entries of Christian art we have seen how literary fiction was growing within the New Testament itself; how, from St. Paul who did not mention the empty tomb in his epistles (the oldest texts of the New Testament), the evangelist Mark did mention it but only with a ‘young man’. Matthew, who wrote after Mark, used the latter’s story and, in his own literary fiction, transfigured the young man into an ‘angel’. Luke and John, who knew Matthew’s text, added another angel to their gospels.
This is how the four gospels were created, each late gospel making the miracle bigger. But the story of how fiction grew does not end in the New Testament. Just as the so-called apocryphal gospels devised additional stories that do not appear in the so-called canonical gospels (e.g., passages from the childhood of Jesus), the popular imagery would invent stories that do not even appear in the apocrypha.
For example, the gospels do not tell that the risen Jesus appeared to his mother. But artists and Christian piety could not help imagining the encounter. This can be seen in Appearance of the Risen Christ to the Virgin (1515, above), a work by Hernando Yáñez de la Adelina, a Spanish Renaissance painter and introducer of the Italian quattrocentist formulas in Valencia and Castile.
The relationship between man and teenager in Sparta was that of teacher-student, based on respect and admiration: a workout, a way of learning, instruction in their way. The sacredness of the teacher-student or instructor-aspirant institution has been challenged by our society, just as the männerbund. Yet, both types of relationships are the foundation of the unity of the armies. Today, children grow up in the shadow of the feminine influence of the female teachers, even through adolescence. It is difficult to know to what extent the lack of male influence limits their wills and ambitions, making them gentle beings, malleable and controllable: what is good for the globalist system.
Others spoke about the Spartan institution of love between master and disciple, but always made it clear that this love was ‘chaste’. The Roman Aelian said that if two Spartan men ‘succumbed to temptation and indulged in carnal relations, they would have to redeem the affront to the honour of Sparta by either going into exile or taking their own lives’ (at the time exile was considered worse than death).
It is noteworthy that if homosexuality was indeed so natural to the original Hellenes as it was for the Greeks of decadent states, Hellenic mythology would be infested with explicit references to such relationships, which is not, as homosexuality was a plague outside the Hellenic spirit that appeared when Greece was already declining. By the time of Plato, for example, homosexuality was beginning to be tolerated in Athens itself. However, ancient and even some modern authors make it clear that Sparta did not fall in this filth.
(Passages from one of Evropa Soberana’s essays in The Fair Race’s Darkest Hour.)
I didn’t plan to say anything about the September 11 attacks in 2001. But this comment at Counter-Currents today—:
I don’t see how anyone can look at the evidence and determine anything other than the US government was involved in the attacks. I was very reluctant to come to this conclusion but Ryan Dawson and James Corbett have proven this beyond a reasonable doubt I believe.
—moves me to remind visitors that 9/11 conspiracy theories have been debunked beyond reasonable doubt (see e.g., some videos here and this year here).
Click: here
The multiple appearances of Jesus to his people after the resurrection appear treated by the hand of Duccio di Buoninsegna in his Maestà of the Cathedral of Siena.
When Duccio, who was born in the 13th century, painted The Incredulity of Thomas credulity reigned all over medieval Europe. It was inconceivable to the European mentality that all of the gospel passages that can be seen in the Maestà paintings originated in literary fiction out of the pen of Semitic writers of the late first century. The grip that the Roman Catholic Church had over the European mind was absolute.
Another Spartan law with racist connotations was to prohibit hair dyes. In the rest of Greece dyes were common, as were blonde wigs, the methods of hair bleaching and the elaborate and extravagant hairstyles like those of Babylon or Etruria (and later in decadent Rome). At one stage of the devolution, when the original native breed in Greece was being diluted by miscegenation, the dyes and the concoctions for hair bleaching were highly prized, especially among women. The same would happen in decadent Rome: Roman wigs were made with the golden hair taken from female German prisoners.
In Sparta the influx of foreigners was jealously limited. It was only possible to visit Sparta for pressing reasons. Similarly, the very Spartans were rarely allowed to travel abroad, and even the slave trade was banned. This was motivated by the interest of the elite that its core would not be corrupted by the softness of foreign customs. The Spartans undoubtedly were great xenophobes.
(Passages from one of Evropa Soberana’s essays in The Fair Race’s Darkest Hour.)
Next to the already empty tomb, this Italian work by Andrea Orcagna (1370, preserved in the National Gallery of London) shows a dialogue between a couple of angels and the three Marys.
In the earliest gospel, Mark (16:5) describes that the women enter the tomb and meet ‘one young man’.
A later evangelist, Matthew (28:2), who used Mark’s gospel, embellished Mark’s literary fiction a little further. He changed the ‘one young man’ to an ‘angel’ that arrives during an earthquake and rolls the stone away.
Luke and John, who wrote their gospels even after Matthew, add another angel to the story that greet the women. So there are two angels now, like the blond ones represented by the delicate paintbrush of Orcagna. (I really love how medieval painters used the pink colour…)
There was a latent rivalry between the Ionian people of an Athens influenced by Asia Minor, and the Dorian people of Sparta directly influenced by their Nordic heritage, who never stopped being governed by anything but their ancestral tradition and their popular consciousness.
Except for Athens, which saw herself as the best, all other Hellenic states reserved their admiration for Sparta, seeing it as a shrine of wisdom and justice: the true repository of primitive Hellenic tradition. Sparta was always the most famous and respected city among the Greeks. They always resorted to her to arbitrate interstate disputes, and most of the times they not even had to resort to force: Sparta sent an ambassador to which everyone would voluntarily submit, like a divine envoy.
(Passages from one of Evropa Soberana’s essays in The Fair Race’s Darkest Hour.)
