A Future Without God?

A group of very wealthy, powerful and well-organized men and women have been proposing a “Great Reset” as a way forward into a better future for humanity, with no mention of Christ. But Christ is the true “Great Reset”

“For our struggle is not against flesh and blood, but against … the spiritual forces of evil.” —St. Paul, Ephesians 6:12

December 17, 2021

Not content to counsel its employees to remove the mention of Christ from references to His own Nativity, the European Union this past Christmas season also suggested avoiding use of names that smack too much of a particular religion, like Christianity (are “Mary” and “Joseph” now verboten?)

We are not surprised by such things any more, but let us step back a moment and take a larger view: what used to be synonymous with “Christendom” — the entire continent of Europe, and many regions colonized by Europeans — is now striving to be officially godless.

The rest of the world seems to be hurrying to follow suit.

There is an axiom of physics: Nature abhors a vacuum, a void. So do human beings.

What is now stepping in to fill the void once occupied by God? We are told by the most powerful people in the world (represented by attendees at the World Economic Forum, the WEF) that it is “The Great Reset” — one of whose more famous mottos is, “You will own nothing and… you will be happy!”

That mode of life worked for St. Francis of Assisi for one reason: he possessed something far, far beyond what this world has to offer: he possessed God.

The Great Reset, however, proposes a future — a political system, a Church, a society — without God.

And a future without God is a future of slavery — to material things, to our passions and addictions, to those who hold the reins of power.

It is the antithesis of the Kingdom of Christ, which was announced with the words of prophecy, “He has come to set the captives free.”

“Faith and freedom are intrinsically linked,” proclaims Georgian poet Dato Magradze, the poet-laureate of the nation of Georgia and author of its post-Soviet national anthem, whose collected works were presented at the Vatican in November.

“New ideologies,” he says, “want to ensure that human beings no longer have that fundamental freedom of choice of being able to be good or bad. It makes it so that we no longer have the necessary experience to distinguish good from evil, beauty from ugliness. Our free will is annihilated by our societies.”

In this time of lockdowns, vaccination mandates, “green passes,” forced acceptance of transsexualism and transhumanism, all foisted upon us in the midst of governmental dishonesty around the globe, Magradze’s words take on a prophetic significance. “What I want to recall … is that God created the human person, while the state created the citizen, sometimes forgetting his sacred dimension,” he said. “To compensate for this lack, the main mission of poetry is to save the human in the citizen.”

Poetry, music, all beauty re-creates before our eyes and in our imagination a vision of the Divine.

But we must return not only to beauty, truth, and goodness, but also to prayer.

And so on December 16, on an unseasonably warm and sunny afternoon, a miscellaneous group of Catholic faithful gathered in the small Virginia town of Front Royal to say the rosary — joined by people in their homes via the internet — as the first in what is set to become a rosary campaign for the soul of the world, a campaign that spreads around the globe.

It was done in 1916, in Poland, when the collective prayer of the Poles turned back a foreign invasion. It was done in 1964, in Brazil, to stem the rising tide of communism in that country. It can happen again, if enough Christians entreat Heaven with prayer and sacrifice.

Pope Benedict, as Fr. Ratzinger, speaking to a German radio audience in 1969, spoke of the future and of the Church in that future: “The future of the Church can and will issue from those whose roots are deep and who live from the pure fullness of their faith. It will not issue from those who accommodate themselves merely to the passing moment or from those who merely criticize others and assume that they themselves are infallible measuring rods; nor will it issue from those who take the easier road, who sidestep the passion of faith, declaring false and obsolete, tyrannical and legalistic, all that makes demands upon men, that hurts them and compels them to sacrifice themselves. To put this more positively: The future of the Church, once again as always, will be reshaped by saints, by men, that is, whose minds probe deeper than the slogans of the day, who see more than others see, because their lives embrace a wider reality.”

He continued: “And so it seems certain to me that the Church is facing very hard times. The real crisis has scarcely begun. We will have to count on terrific upheavals. But I am equally certain about what will remain at the end: not the Church of the political cult, which is dead already, but the Church of faith. It may well no longer be the dominant social power to the extent that she was until recently; but it will enjoy a fresh blossoming and be seen as man’s home, where he will find life and hope beyond death.”

Bringing the Light of Christ to us inhabitants of a darkened world — and making us into saints — has, of course, always been the mission of the Catholic Church, of the Vatican, and of this magazine. As we embark on our 30th year of publishing with this issue, we once again “set out into the deep” with a new initiative – Unitas: Come, Rebuild My Church.

This issue of the magazine contains a special 8-page pull-out newsletter titled Communiqué which explains why we started this new initiative, and what it encompasses. It was launched in October with a three-day retreat and luncheon event that was well-attended and well-received; I hope you enjoy reading all about it, and I ask you to keep Unitas, and all of us here at ITV, in your prayers.