Chapter 1: End of the Church

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Status: Finished  |  Genre: Non-Fiction  |  House: Booksie Classic

Reads: 210




Michael Bolerjack



End of The Church



The Thirty Years War

Volume 27






These chapters, written between April 2010 and March 2012, are the late tale of a catholic convert coming to grips with the question “who is 666?” and the answer that will surprise all those who hold and teach the faith of the Romans. Beginning with the exposition of a logic that is the epitome of incomprehensible gibberish, as viewed from the standpoint of his faithful confreres, which is the basis for the explication of the apocalypse that unfolds over the second half of the work, End of The Church The Thirty Years War Volume 27 displays a range of styles unusual for  theological and philosophical writing, falling somewhere adjacent to the Ulysses and Finnegans Wake of James Joyce, while the manifest religious substance of the author’s words is absolutely faithful to his vocation to be of service as a writer for God  to the Catholic Church. The treatise on the logic of the “incomprehensible” or “impossible” that serves as the foundation for the revelation of the antichrist is meant to be an always inadequate yet necessary attempt to explain the incongruity between the real and not only apparent contradictoriness of God’s Word in scripture and the distortions of the gospel produced by the assertion of the univocal truths of the theological tradition. The theses on the truth of the whole and the truth of the holy and the question whether either of them can still be said to apply to the faith now, after the deconstruction and deconsecration that has taken place in the Church in the World, is something that may be considered here late in the day with the end in view. Overall, The Thirty Years War traces the path the author took to work his way through the labyrinth of the philosophers, theologians, and literary writers, as well as his own private loves and personal obsessions, to reach faith in Christ and nothing but, finding the logic of His Mind, one against the magic and the money, as he realized himself to be set apart and called to present to those who will read and recognize it a way to revise a fallen church and revive a fallen world, if that is God’s plan for the “vineyard” he leased out to us, which he has promised to come and take back in justice, if we will not be just ourselves, meaning a theory of the arrival of Christ, the author’s hope as an apostle of the apocalypse.











The Poet’s Task

Faith creates being

God and Writing, or How We Might Have Failed in Our Arrival

Kyrie Eleison: Lord Have Mercy

Alpha and Omega

The Treatise on Logic

Ecclesiastes 4:12

The Account

The Form

The Logic

The Yes

Exodus 32:19

The Story of a Soul

The Portable Nietzsche

Finnegans Wake


Sermon on the Mount

Kabbalah and Criticism

The Anxiety of Influence

Shakespeare: Invention of the Human

An Icon for the Church on the Mercy of God

The Visionary Company

Memoirs of the Blind

Being and Believing



Teresa of Calcutta

“Say that Jerusalem is

Theses on Levinas

Restrictions of Heideggerean Being

Therese in Theory


Logics of the Rose

[plan for the work on Therese]


In Acknowledgment

The (Ste) PS

Re: These

And Yet

[The Muse]

September of my years

Harvest Time

h 2 o

An Icon for the Church on the Marinela of God

Arts Rest


All Saints Day

In memory of a forgotten Pope

All Souls Day

“…a limit on infinity…”

That dice thrown


After Reading Roland Barthes

Genesis and Revelation

The News


will have been a book


Preface to Paradise Throne

Paradise Throne


Moral Epilogue

Remains: The Perfect Number

Fame of the Frame


Brother Jacques

The Difference Between Judgment and Criticism




The Seer


Noble Truths

The Path

Liturgicam Authenticam



Abstract French


Roman Holiday



Gift of Knowledge


The Virgin Martyrs


Search for the Absolute

Itinerary of The Thirty Years War


Flores de Monterrey

Closing Prayer


Pi Critic is Me

Letter [April 2, 2011]

Letter [June 5, 2011]

The Recrucifixion of Christ in the Modern World

Moral on the time

An Icon from an Evening in Glas

Vocabulary of God

[dictionary look-up]

Dissemination and the Abyss

Catholic Economy

Salted With Fire


Letter [March 26, 2012]












































I don’t think I’ve ever loved

anyone but God.


James Joyce
































My heart would ever have

been in conflict with itself,

were it not for these two.

They were patient with me

in my constant infirmities.



D.G. “Bo” Bolerjack,

my father, 1927-2001,


and my love, my wife,

Marinela B. Bolerjack.



My transubstantiation is

dedicated to them with

gratitude and with the

blessing of faithfulness.



Michael Bolerjack















I would like to thank the faculty of the University of St. Thomas with whom I studied from 2003 to 2008 while I was a student of theology and the liberal arts in the UST graduate school.


James Anderson

James Barloon

Clinton Brand

Robert Crooker

Daniel Flores

Shannon Forbes

Paul Hahn

Irving Kelter

Jean Kitchel

Charles Krohn

Betty Lee Ligon

Joy Linsley

Paula Jean Miller

Frances Panchok

Judith Ryan

Leon Streider

Charles Talar

Henry Walker

Jeremy Wilkins

Robert Yankow


I would also like to thank the dozen or more great priests of the Congregation of St. Basil who served at UST while I was in attendance, especially Daniel Callam.


I also remember the young men with whom I studied at St. Mary’s seminary who have gone on to become priests, as well as the friends I made among the students, including Diego Leskovar, Jeff Lewis and David Tate. I also remember Mike Streeter from the UST English department who befriended me and appreciated my writing.


I thank Carolyn Douglas, and her friends, as well as Elizabeth Phillips and Emily Abbott, early teachers, and Paul Carty and Tom Peery, my spiritual directors.


To those I do not explicitly mention here, know that you are still in my heart.


In memoriam: Janice Gordon Kelter, dean of the MLA program when I was admitted in 2005, and Robert Joseph Yankow, professor of Greek and Latin, who passed away in August 2010.


I had a dream twenty years ago in which I declared that I wanted to be a theologian. I think that means one who prays. As William Blake said, “anyone who does not believe in a personal God is a fool,” and “Jesus Christ is God, that’s all I know.” Perhaps I am only a theologian in the sense Blake was, but perhaps that is enough.


The work of The Thirty Years War is about many things, and had its beginnings amid great errors, but in the end it was done for the Church and for the Glory of God. I hope you read it in that light.


Finally, without my wife Marinela none of this would have been possible. Those of you who read the work in its entirety will get to know her a little. For over ten years she has been my ability and my aid and my little all in all. As you read the work, keep her in mind as my co-creator.



Michael Bolerjack




















Years ago, when I was starting out as a writer, I did a bit of journalism, writing and editing, designing and even selling ads. Of course, in the newspaper business the reporter is taught to tell the readers the five Ws and the H: the who, what, where, when, why and how an event occurred. To introduce the work to you I think I should do something similar. I will begin with the how. How was this written? It would be true to say that it was by the grace and mercy of God and not by my own will and effort, and I happily admit that fact of faith, but I want to say something too about the manner of the writing. In 1981, one of my first college teachers, on encountering some of my early fiction, said that I “wrote like Faulkner.” I think it was a compliment, though later, based on the opinions I heard voiced by students, it might not have been. Faulkner is he of the long sentence, the rolling period, the labyrinthine style that mirrors a complexity of thought and reality. If I write “like Faulkner,” it is perhaps because the way I say the thing exemplifies the thing that is said. Late in my career, the idea of the “arrival” came to me, the promised arrival that one must search for. Perhaps my writing is that search, simultaneously in theme, style, etc., of the looking forward to arrival. In about 1988 two teachers made diverse comments on my writing. One said that I “wrote like Gertrude Stein.” The other said I had a “perverse rhetoric of authority.” I found out recently that to write like Stein means to be “gnomic, repetitive and illogical.” Again, this may not be a compliment as to style. And I must admit I tend to be elliptical or epigrammatic, with a fragmentary pretense to aphorism, and that sometimes I assert plain contradictions as true. So be it. As for perversity, I confess as well that then, at the peak of my infatuation with everything to do with deconstruction, I was both morally and intellectually perverse. But God took care of that in His own way. I have often argued from authority, which is a sin in a philosopher, but not in a theologian. If the authority is experience, the poet may well use the same method of logical argumentation. In 2006, as I was studying Joyce, a teacher again said that I “wrote like Faulkner.” At least I have been consistent. I might add that the same Joycean teacher made me rewrite a 15 page paper into a five page one, and that the second paper was better than the first, and that I learned from the experience. So much, then, for the how, but what of the who? Nietzsche was perhaps correct when he said that when one reads something one must ask just who is writing the text. So perhaps you will ask yourself rightly along the way that question concerning me and this work, but I think the things I have to say do not depend so much on me as on the matter at hand, and therefore I will not preempt what each of you may variously find or the conclusions you may draw by giving you any more information on the author, which will at any rate be found on the pages passim. The where is Houston, Texas, and the when were the war years. This leaves me only the what and the why. And that’s really the heart of the matter. The what is what happened as a result of my encounter with deconstruction, my “agon” with Derrida, and others, as well as my conversion to Christ, and the dialectic that developed out of the placing of these two in relationship. The writings attempt and achieve a synthesis of many apparently, and I think  absolutely, contradictory beliefs, ideas, methods. I did not, many years ago, consciously set out to perform the synthesis, but in these latter days found it possible to do, though whether it works or not will be for others to decide. I have been told that it was not likely to be able to be done, by a former professor, Samuel Southwell, who knew me when I thought I was a deconstructionist, and I have harbored some doubts myself whether it was the right thing to do. Yet, it seems to me I have been uniquely called to the task. The work as a whole, that is, the project of my career in writing which I call The Thirty Years War, is a journey that started from deconstruction in terms of both philosophy and literature. In 1989, at the point just before my conversion to Christ, the decisive idea happened to me in the context of a reading of the Anaximander fragment and Nietzsche and Levinas, in which I recognized an exterior eternity limiting infinity. This led to the thinking through of the contradictory essence of truth, lived as the real dialectic, in the late 1990s, and on to the limit of Hamlet in arrival, around 2006, followed by the recommendation of self-limitation as a way out of the dichotomy of fantasy and necessity in which we live, to gain freedom and reality, in my writings on the novel in 2007 and 2008. This led to the ideas and logic this year that can reconcile all differences, ideally and therefore really, in order to fulfill the gospel injunction to “be perfect.” It is the logic of the impossible, and implies distantly that before the beginning there was an infinite nothingness which contracted, creating a limit, the eternal, God. All else flowed from this event before eternity, when the infinite was stopped. Much of the problem with thinking today is the virtual renewal of the infinite nothing which has occurred since the so-called death of God. I believe that God has proceeded by a series of contractions to limit himself again and again, down to Christ on the cross, down to the bread on the altar, down to the word on the page, to reach each one of us in our narrow, crowded worlds. He asks us to do likewise, to deny, renounce, follow, suffer. That this applies to the enormous Catholic Church is all too obvious, and I foresee a great limitation coming on the institution itself, but not on the message, which is life for the world. I have found that all creation occurs as a series of painful contractions, a labor in the artist similar to that of the woman in childbirth. God experienced this pain. It is essential to him. The Church too may give birth to a new world, but only as the result of the contractions that have been unfolding for many years. Which I think brings me to the why. Why did I write this work? A man once asked me why I “bothered” at all. As Faulkner said in Stockholm, it was not for money, nor even less for glory. Let me say I was seeking the truth, and that I found it, or rather He found me. I was given the talent to write, as in the parable of Jesus, and it became clear to me that I was obligated to make good use of the talent that I have been given. I wrote in the end specifically to the Church, which is not necessarily Roman but global, and about the subject of mercy, as will be seen from the way God has led me out of the wilderness to the promised land, and as he has guided the thought of the work to the point of the reconciling of oppositions, in me, in the Church, and in the world, while directing me toward the findings concerning the apocalypse which I disclose at the end. That we now and will in the future all need such reconciliation is without question, and the Church most of all, for whom I write, and which I love. I think that through this work steps are taken toward the reconciliation of Christian practice and theory, calling readers to truth, to love, to holiness, to responsibility. We must find the truth whatever the cost, even though it means a breaking. As I say at one point, as bread is broken, be broken, too, and yet after the breaking there is still the communion. The fact that God allowed me to preserve a record of my search for the truth, and then gave me the thing itself, an answer to questions we have all longed to know, and sometimes asked about, humbles me and makes me thankful.




















Vocations are not for those who ask.





The truth is that which grasps without

itself being grasped.





We don’t know we don’t know, yet will to know.

Far rather forget.





In life, as in music, there is no program,

but the absolute.





Everything is true, but the truth itself.





Discerning truth requires distance, not negotiations in proximity.

The reading of the text is not an economic exchange,

but the charity of meaning.




















The Poet’s Task



Saying the truth and the truth itself are two separate and necessary things.

One is the imagination, the other reality. Like the lover, imagination has its real woman.

She is. I am. I can describe but I cannot be her, nor do I wish to be.

I am content with the poet’s task.
















Faith creates being,





that is, acknowledgment turns potency to actuality. We are not real unless we believe. Believe the Lord is in us. It has been said by all who believe that we are created by God. Let it be said also that you are not real unless you believe. If you are in doubt, or turned away from the light of faith, His Face, you only seem to be. As we have learned in our era, though Parmenides showed us long ago, most of the world most of the time is mere semblance. By being in relationship with the real, one becomes real oneself. This relationship is one of faith. Faith is not of this world. The world is now deconstructing. Deconstruction is not nihilism, a philosophy of nothingness, as existentialism was, with its question propadeutic to philosophizing, to be or not to be, the question of suicide in the face of the emptiness at the heart of existence. No, deconstruction is not a philosophy of nothingness, as with Sartre, or of being, as with Heidegger, but of sheer semblance, glamour, the milieu of Nietzsche. The opposition of being and nothingness has been deconstructed and with it faith, which must be in either the fullness or the emptiness of God. There is now only a faithless seeming-to-be, the time of opinion, of interpretation, of perspectives, of a world in which there are no longer not only values of high and long standing, but not even mere facts. There is no actuality. With too much going on, there is no action, but the pose of glamour, the system of artificiality, in which the natural is valued only for its effectiveness as a sales tool. We desire, we attend, we are interested in, that which we love. Which can now only be represented, not presented. There is no present, no presence, only presentations. There is no longer direct unmediated contact with life. In fact, the mass of men and women are not real. They have simply ceased to exist, though they still seem to. The only way back to being is the act of faith, a will to believe in God, the really real. At the moment you say yes to God you begin to be. Without that you never even were. There are only two ways, the world of reality and the world of opinion. As one once said: do not seem but be. When you believe you come to stand. Only by standing can you understand. Then you arrive. The highest reality transcends both metaphysics and ethics. It is a moral and spiritual reality. To be in relationship with the Spirit is to be real. Everything else is material to be bought or sold. As Christ said, you must be born again, that is, being in the world does not make you real, but being in relationship with God. It has been said that each of us has their own reality. That is true for versions of semblance, of which the number is indefinite. To be definite, to be free, to be real, is to be of one mind, the mind of Christ. Only by keeping Christ in mind can you lose the separate reality of the show and find the one true good and beautiful. It is as Parmenides and Paul said, perfect. We are required then in all seriousness to be perfect, to have the mind of Christ, to be real, to love reality no matter how painful, preferring it to the intoxicants, that is, to be nothing for show. In this world that seems to be impossible. But semblance is in error. The one truth simply is the Lord Jesus Christ. This will never change. The City of God is what Augustine called the real world that I here declare, opposed to the glittering vices of the pagan diabolical city of semblance. Rilke said “you must change.” I second him and add: You have a choice. You must choose. Choose reality. Faith is the meaning of being. At the mass the priest stated the position of faith: God does the impossible. Now, for reason the impossible by definition cannot be done. Yet, the Church has ever taught, on the basis of the authority of Christ, that for God, and for one who has faith, nothing is impossible. Faith, then, understands more than cool reason comprehends. When Hegel said the real is rational and the rational is real, he attempted to rationalize faith’s basic character of higher realization through irrationality, into a system in which the sublation of difference and contradiction as absolute knowledge can be the all in all. Hegel also said the whole is the true, but others have posited infinities, supplements and traces that exceed the whole, thus exceeding truth. Truth, to be true, would have to include the lie, or seeming-to-be. But this cannot be. They do not change the truth through that displacement. They can, as one has said, deny or ignore the truth, but they cannot change it. Truth to be true cannot be an historical process but is immutable. Human history is a lie, spoken against the truth. The Church is able through faith to have both the truth and all its contradictoriness, by mystery, by the assertion of the dogmas of God as both three and one, of Christ as both God and man, of the death of God on the cross, of a church both sinful and holy, of a sacrament both bread and God, of God both immanent and transcendent, of a human being who was completely free from sin, of a papacy which is infallible, of the good of suffering, and much else. The Church boldly asserts the incomprehensible, things which are not mere paradoxes of the faith, but real contradictions that the logic of Aristotle cannot admit, though he said Heraclitus said such things without really thinking them. I have at various points in the scope of my Transubstantiation said and shown the truth of contradiction without contradicting the truth, yet He was contradicted as prophesied by those who put him to death, even with the cross of human reason. But Truth lives again. Resurrection itself, without which our religion is to be pitied, is perhaps the greatest contradiction, though some say such things as the virgin birth to be. Anyone who clings to reason will find a stone of offense to stumble on in scripture and the church’s teaching. And yet, while asserting the necessity of both faith and reason, the Church presents us with impossibilities to believe. God asks nothing but the impossible. Be perfect. Your faith has saved you, do not sin again. The Church gives us models of perfection in the saints, who by the grace of God did the impossible. It is said the great thing is to dream the impossible dream, and one has said the only thing worth attempting is the impossible. Faith does this. But without Christ we can do nothing. Knowledge will fail, but love will go on. We love each other despite our contradictions. By faith and love we suspend the judgments of reason, transforming even the critical faith by which we are reformed for an ever-greater truth we know by love and not by reason. My life has been one love, no blot it out, my life has been one chain of contradictions. But they are one and the same. We are presented with something greater than we can understand, but we believe, we love, we obey, and even not despite but because of the contradictions. These of the faith that the Church presents to us are the greatest spur to and test of our faith, and thus our faith is proved. Logic had its scapegoat, the scandal of the contradiction, yet faith has won out. “Being” doesn’t empty faith, but is substantial subsistent faith.


























God and Writing,

or How We Might Have Failed in Our Arrival



True Word, True Bread, Christ came down from Heaven: to heal us. From ourselves. Wallace Stevens sat on the edge of his bed and heard the bird sing at daybreak and thought it was reality, the thing itself. But dark Stevens in darkness heard a bird sign only and so ended his life’s work as a Greek by divination of a sign, not with the thing itself. Dark Stevens, in his hard reality of fiction, knew the death of evil as a tragedy, and perhaps was that and nothing besides. But hear the poor man say, we are what we are to God, that only, and nothing besides. And what are we to God? What can we be but an idea? We are but ideas in the infinite Mind of God. He alone is that which is. We simply are not. So some far-fetched fiction would tell allegories of how we sleep and only think we wake. Far rather, God dreamed, and dreamed of us. What will we be when He awakes? Since there is no composition in God, as Aquinas says, no parts, no accidents, no movement, we are but the ideal of substance, already eternal, already one. Derrida, in his writing, would substitute composition-less composition for God. How? By destroying writing as he writes, by interdicting steps he cannot take. He makes writing One. As he wrote: Nothing outside of the text. Composition-less composition. A new God. Utter complexity so enormous it is sublime virtual simplicity. Rather, monotony, as my nephew Justin Martin said, “nowadays everybody is the same.” What we once were, our idea of God, or better, a dream our God enjoyed, became a limitless possibility without an act, an actor, an action, an actuality. To make us infinite, as Mallarme said. But we, instead, felt indefinite, and fell, abyss on abyss, with only that one direction, gravity’s, which our light could not escape. The totality of knowledge as possible became the thing that drew us. And the light of the idea, that shape, that form, though insubstantial as a dream, died. We did not arrive. We dived. We plunged. We did not climb, we did not aspire. Without Spirit, in a material more dense than the quickest quicksand, we expired. This “we” though is merely our country and our culture, two supreme fictions. Individuals instead have climbed out of the abyss and scaled the mountain to the altar of God. Looking back they see the abyss in flames, the burning in the waste, the fire that may consume all in the chasm, while those on the mountain escape the fate of fire. The Church has never been in the abyss, so the “we” is not the Church speaking. It is gathered at the throne on high, where someday all can find a place. Let us then speak of “all” rather than “we,” for all are called. God and writing at first did not seem opposed, and surely God has no opposite. Knowing this, the deceit had to be at once brazen but clandestine, and the contamination but oblique. The way of light is strait and narrow, but there is no end to the windings of the serpentine line of the writer’s indefinite traces. God has written, has already written, on our hearts, and it is a pure writing, a pure love and a pure timelessness that is at the heart of the human race. Climb the mountain, retreat into your hearts, find the purity inscribed there, a kingdom, eternal, waiting for you and me. When we stop writing, when we fall silent, when we choose understanding, when we become real, without artifice, but with art in life, with creation in love, thoughtful, we may listen to the words of others, learn discernment through a listening and a putting into practice, testing the spirits, to find what is right and pleasing to God, to be transformed by the renewal of our minds, through meaning that is neither excessive nor repetitive, but simply delineated, like the edge of a diamond, that creation of the form and pressure of the time: sharp, hard, bright, rich.










Kyrie Eleison:

Lord Have Mercy



Compassion. Com-Passion. Suffering with. Christ did not so much suffer for us, but with us. Why? Why did he choose suffering? Out of solidarity. To give meaning to our suffering. To remove the absurdity of meaninglessness. To transform the point of view of the nihilism of pain in order to affirm life. To have mercy. To show mercy. Not merely in the saying but in the doing. Suffering, then, is not an end in itself or a good in itself, or a goal, but a means to something else. Just as temptations are given, not just to lead to sin. If everything is grace, everything is mercy. Time is not an insupportable waiting, but merciful patience. If Christ suffered out of exceeding charity, if it is to the humanity of Christ that we more owe our salvation, if all authority belongs to Christ precisely as the Son of Man, then in showing mercy He becomes mercy. Be merciful, even as your heavenly Father is merciful. God may have mercy on whom he will, but the command to us is to show mercy to all. Blessed are the merciful, for they will be shown mercy. We have seen it, now we must likewise do it.










Apocalypse to come will come, is coming. The weeds and the wheat are being separated. The city of God and the city of the devil are being torn apart from each other. That other city is falling into the abyss at 32 ft ps ps, as Joyce waking said. The city of Jerusalem ascends in raptures, ever up, as Joyce in Odes said. Ode to wandering, owed to the abyss, but songs of ascent. It is not “the church in the modern world” but the benediction church against the world, ever against that world we are in but not of and which we are coming out of.


We will be and all shall be well. We will be disclosed, He will be disclosed. The Appropriation has been Disclosed. Closure rapture ruptures. A hermeneutics of continuity, a hermeneutics of rupture. The council occurred amid the disruption of the sixties. And as I grew toward it the Church was deconstructing until JP II put a stop to deconstruction in the catholic Church. In the world the Soviet empire deconstructed, and capitalism deconstructed but the Church did not. End of story but not the end. Priests? Some fell, but not all. Same story. Not even one out of twelve. Always a bad one in the mix. They said look to it yr self. They always do it for the money. This temptation, against innocence, against sobriety, against purity, will pass. The city of God will rise, and Jerusalem will descend for heaven would have all Israel saved. Pray for the peace of Jerusalem. Pray for Her to come with God. Next year in Jerusalem.


At first there was a wanderer who found his abyss. Then a man found by God, found by woman, found in time, while waiting for eternity. All of it written in a book. All in all, unveiled, apocalyptic, disclosed.


You are either going up or down, you cannot stay where you are, though that would satisfy most people.


Obscurely it has been said that the way up and the way down are one and the same. Now I know. They are, so: a city rises, built by God and martyrs, a city falls, witnessed by the rest. Between them nothing at all. The first was and is and will be. The second only seemed to be, but counterfeit, was taking by the many for the fittest world. But fit what is. Only one. Semblance only ghosted, while souls were saved. Few found it. I pray I was one.


Where do you stand, to what do you kneel, if you kneel at all? On the day of transformation where will you be? Some say taken, some say left behind. He said the last will be first, the first will be last. You choose.


The Spirit of God moved over the abyss. Once. The Spirit of God filled the church. Twice. Now the Spirit of God I pray will come again against the world to save God’s city. To not defer the differences but in order to discern them. To tell the real from the unreal city. It is almost the end of the long night of manmade light. The dawn approaches, a light that will never set, a son returns. Where will you be, on his right or left?


Do not be afraid. Stay in your room and pray. Let the word grow in you. Know that God has chosen you to be alive at this time. It was 50/50. Half the people who have ever lived are alive today. He will come to judge the living and the dead. He is the just judge, His mercy is that too. One act. One time. All in All.


Love and fill the world you are in with it. Two cities. One world. The church in the modern world. Lucky world, after all. Just get to the city on time. Departure is near, and dear to us all. Apocalypse to come. Christ, come quickly! Though we are not finished yet, Christ, come quickly! Though there is more that would be done, Christ, come quickly! Though the world will pass away, Christ, come quickly! Though the judgment is certain yet uncertain, do not delay, Christ, come quickly! Though some may not be saved yet, Christ, come quickly! So more will not lose their faith, we pray,


Christ, come quickly!











































As I told a friend in April, 2010, at Easter the Lord gave me a big thing to say. Altogether, the telling of it took over three months. The results are disconcerting for anyone who thinks in the accustomed tradition of the mainstream of philosophy coming from Aristotle and Thomas Aquinas. The essays I wrote take as their starting-point the Hegelian assertion of the truth of the whole, coupled with the gospel assertions concerning how God thinks, which is very different from that of the world. In the end, a logic was produced that reconciles all oppositions, to the point that in retrospect, having watched an hour of news on television, I commented that, if it doesn’t make sense, it must be true. My logic both describes the illogicality of the world today and shows a possible path to the unification of the competing claims of the various religions and philosophies under the  banner of the allowance that all are true as a whole, and only make sense as part of the whole. The world, now fragmented into many parts, each part thinking it is the true one, or that all are equally untrue, or that all are true from their own perspectives, each in their own reality, is actually true when grasped in its innate contradiction, and that this contradiction is the truth, and must be, for the truth not to contradict itself. It is not that we agree to disagree, but that our very being depends on faith in a God who encompasses all differences. At any rate, so it seems to me. The thought that began in September, 1989, with the simple, if illogical and contradictory, premise that eternity limits infinity, reached arrival in 2006 with the renovation of dialectical logic through positing the fourth step, at the same time showing a way out of the impasse of de-construction, was completed in 2009 with the discovery of the Ultrastructure in alpha-numeric symbolism, and attained fulfillment in 2010 with these writings on the truth of contradiction. They are the end-point of a project, my writings from 1985 to 2010, which achieve a synthesis I did not set out toward, but which I found to be possible toward the end of the quarter-century of the work, and which I had for several years felt was something that needed to be accomplished.














A three-ply cord is

not easily broken.


Ecclesiastes 4:12
















In the following I will give both a general and special theory of accountability, that is, in the latter case, a restricted economy of the account of the genesis and order of the ideas of

the work, with some relevant history on the author, his life and the present age, and in the former case, an analysis of the account as such, both in the logos and in terms of a total count in the making, opposing teleological closure, our happiness and promise of joy, to the pleasure of seriality, the indefinite, semblance, our anxiety of desire, our insatiable pleasure, our fear of the end. In order to do this I will make use of the complexity of the logos-logic-logistic-logistics construction, showing on the square or in the space of the idea as such the relations of these four terms to each other and to the regimes of religion and finance, as well as to their deconstructions. This will be worked out with the thought of Christ in mind, the problem of the contradictions of life in Christ and of life in the World, of the comprehensiveness of the totality of the logic of God inherent in the notion that God does the impossible, the relation of this belief to faith and reason, to the mercy of God as I think it is to be understood, to the theory of reading the Bible that gives rise to the comprehension of contradiction, as well as the secular application of this logic in literature and philosophy, in ethics, politics, finance, and in the interrelation of the faiths of the world, showing a way to peace through an emphasis on wholeness, understanding, forgiveness and the abandonment of the subjective perspective as such, however multiplied, for the unity of one objective dramatic self-effacing release of power for the love of God and the love of neighbor, alluded to at times in the works I have written by the words arrival, real dialectic, catholicity or the Catholic Economy. A textuality will obtain in the working-through of the general and special theories, in the sense that the account of the restricted textual economy of the individual works is set in the account of the general text, and my text itself in that indefinite ever-greater text that simulates the infinite. We will see the interplay of the sign-world of textuality, which is constantly deconstructing, with the true frame of things found in number, which needs no translation and cannot be deconstructed. The cities of God, seen in the Ultrastructure or Metasignification as I posit it, and of the World, seen in textuality, are intertwined, as the wheat and the tares, but as the deconstructing world falls away, as Joyce said accelerating at 32 ft per second per second, into the abyss, the altogether pristine will emerge, which the Bible calls measure, weight, number, a fact Andrew Marvel commented on in his preface to Milton, though all now seems lost without measure, weightless, a “total count in the making.” The account of accountability I intend is meant to, in part, show the futility of that series, by that which is already made, from which God is seen, as Paul said in Romans. The logos and its logic show this as well. Truth is apparent in the words in which it is written, and you do not have a single word without having the whole of language, metaphysics and the truths they contain with it, as Derrida once said in his early controversy on structuralism. Deconstruction targeted the logos and its logic, forcing it before the letter to the logistic of reducing number to logic, thus eliminating the indeconstructible, and by postmodern parody reducing logistic to logistics, a keyword in business today that is parallel to the  use of the term aesthetics for the artificial attempt to reverse time in the aging of the faces of women, as well as the remotivated uses of the word metaphysics today, which are not concerned with being or cause or form as such, but with the spiritual world in general, without reference to good or evil and their restricted dialectic, that is the deconstructive economy of generality against a proper dialectic. Logistics, aesthetics and metaphysics are all artificial, set against dialectics as simulation is set against reality, and do not make any new thing but manipulate matter and spirit in magical kinds of ways, attempting the impossible, promising the impossible, but ending only by destroying actuality, suspending the really Real, a term from Gregory of Nyssa for God, and erasing meaning as such. One of the cornerstones of the present work will be to see the impossible as something that only God can do, that is the definition of God in a way, which involves not the resort to the paradox, which is based on seeming (characteristic of contemporary logistics, aesthetics and metaphysics), but on the impossible, which really is the reality of that which is, its contradictoriness, its wholeness, its truth. What has happened is the setting back of actuality to mere possibility, this step back freeing play, eliminating the truly serious for the semblance of gravitas, and as the fall away takes place, the seeming elimination of gravity, at the same time a real and an inexorable and unbearable gravity which is causing the fall but cannot be felt in the time of the abyss. Material is feeding the pull of this gravity, the increasing materiality of culture, seen in the new importance of logistics, of aesthetics to defeat gravity and time, of metaphysics to defeat any notion of absolute truth. There is still such truth, but at first glance it may be mistaken for the world that is falling away. That world views it in the grand affirmations of Nietzsche, Joyce, Derrida: their YES. But by eliminating the NO they will by deconstructive logic eliminate the YES as well. It is only by conserving the negative, let your yes mean yes and your no mean no, as Christ said, that the absolute truth emerges into view as the wholeness of the contradiction. The very thing that was previously thought to be division is the real unity, seen from a height not from the leveled postmodern standpoint. God tells us this in all Bibles, and even Heraclitus knew of it: the way up and the way down are one and the same. Aristotle could not grasp this truth which is not human but is divine. The hidden harmony of things is expressed by Christ as the Father who causes His rain to fall on both the just and on the unjust. Christ said then, be perfect as your heavenly Father is perfect. And it is this command to be perfect which tests the cross of human reason, and by faith, not the will or effort of man, though we are told that also is required, in order perhaps to be part of the contradiction, not by our wills but only by the mercy and grace of God. Such faith is the creation of reality, for unless you believe you are not real. The artificial world falls away while the real remains. We are judged by our works, but faith saves, and this at once is the whole truth, which is the mercy of God greater than our sins, but also greater than justice as such or reasoning in itself. Parmenides, in the poem that sets forth the One, says that there are WHAT IS and WHAT IS NOT and that which only SEEMS TO BE. And this is the truth. The One is what is, which as One contains actually all number as One, while the nothing or what is not is the same as the void without either meaning or number, not even the Islamic invention of the zero, while what seems to be, which commentators say is the inordinate concern of a work on the One, is the province not of the Ultrastructure but of the text. The sign only seems to be. The oracle does not speak or conceal but gives signs, as Heraclitus said, which is to say, there are only the revelation of the One, the occulted nothing and the realm of interpretation. Plato, in his dialogue on Parmenides, subjects the One to the first logistic, reducing the Ultrastructure of the unity of number in the monad to the logic inherent in that unity, which inspired deconstruction, a move that results in the equation: both this and that, neither this nor that, the fourfold of logic I wrote on in 1988, and which became the basis for deconstruction’s double blow or affirmation, which is a mere paralysis, not the whole truth but the interdiction of the arrival of truth, as I point out at various places in the work. The logic of the One as one thing and its opposite both at once is the positing of contradiction as the truth, but which is only part of the strategy of deconstruction, which then eliminates the contradiction by a Dionysian YES, by the leveling of hierarchy in Nietzsche’s logical deduction concerning the history of Being as the history of an error, a history in which being is overcome by sheer appearance, which cannot be appearance any more if it has no Being to oppose it in a binary opposition, and many say they are the same, this deconstruction of the space of logic based on the contradictions that feed the dialectical work of the word and the grand gesture of the affirmation that is a vicious circle without egress. But they are not, though they seem to be. The way to discern the truth of contradiction from the contradiction of truth involves looking at the fruits of the logics. The contradiction of truth is done on the one hand to free interpretation, signs, the text, generally, to excess, as a kind of pleasure of the text, as Barthes said, the same as sexuality, but displaced upward. The truth of contradiction on the other hand humbles human reason and its significance and tells us there is something that cannot be thought, the impossible, that man cannot do. Derrida said that only the impossible is worth attempting. Actually he attempted to deconstruct the impossible itself, by the elimination of act, the creation of pure possibility, and by way of simulation, through the imposition of a pure possibility, making actuality impossible. Every act became an act. Acting, but no action, the pure act is the elimination of all acts. But the truth of contradiction is not this act, but the actuality of wholeness. This whole is the One. It is reality. The truth of contradiction indeed says both this and that, neither this nor that, or rather every statement and its opposite are true. If God is good and yet as we know there is evil, there is in God’s world, the world we inhabit, both. There has been much theodicy from theologians and poets to justify the ways of God to man and explain the existence of evil, and I do not wish to place the goodness of God in question. One can say that evil is only an illusion, as in the East, or that creation itself is an evil, the Gnostic way. Let us say neither of these. But at the same time let us say both. The world is evil and it is only an illusion. Rather that is what it has become in the hands of the logic of deconstruction, which was always potential in the tradition of metaphysics, but which did not come into play until the last 100 years. The world is now the multiple, the sign, and this is the illusion, and semblance is the evil. What is real? Buddha said suffering was an illusion, but Christ showed us suffering and death are both real, though His love is more real. As Sophocles said, we suffer into truth. This is to suffer the contradiction. The contradiction of truth is to posit the absence of meaning as the only meaning, an effect, that is, as Derrida said in an interview in Positions, “writing literally means nothing,” but the truth of contradiction is to accept the cross and what put Christ on it, which was the human reaction to the all-embracing nature of God’s mercy. You will love your enemy but they will not love you, you will be peaceful while they make war, you will be contradicted as Christ was contradicted. The truth of contradiction however is not this contradiction of the truth, the world against the truth, but the mercy by which God is free, not bound by human reason or will, in that He may affirm both the just and the unjust, both saints and sinners, loving He said especially the sinner, but rejoicing when he repents of sin. In this metanoia or conversion is the birth of faith and reality against the paranoia of human fear, greed, denial, desire, self-love, and perhaps most of all the pride of the goddess of human Reason. The wisdom of God transcends mere reason and does this in a way more than we know. There is to say it again, because it bears repeating, what is, what is not and what only seems to be, and in this logical matrix we are placed in the moral problem of our good and our evil. Is evil nothing, merely a lack of the good? Or is it an illusion, seeming to be only? Or does it really exist? If it exists, it is then true, in a way, but I think a truth that perpetuates itself only by falsehood, by denial, simulation and terror to quote Badiou, that is, by being the contradiction of truth. Some would go beyond good and evil, neither moral nor immoral, rather amoral, as one would speak of truth and falsehood in an extra-moral sense, as Nietzsche did. I prefer to go on to the conclusion of the logic, to the fourth term of this equation, the other that completes the moral hierarchy, which is mysticism. The mystic knows good and evil, that they exist, does not negate them amorally, but in another way, through a transcendent love, turns from evil to the good. This turning is the conversion, the being born again, the new man, the repentance, the turning away from the world to God by the renewal of the mind in order to be perfect, that is, to know what is pleasing to God, to think as He does, in a sense, at least as we can do that in this life, in spirit, if not in deed. When this happens, all things become possible, the impossible can be done, by God and in faith. Thus, I, who was not real, become real. The world which was real is known to be unreal. Everything is true, but as the lie which it was. The contradiction is accepted. One does not say YES to everything morally or mystically, and yet at the same time one does, loving as it is said the sinner but not the sin. As God does. To love both neighbor and enemy is to refrain from judging sin. It is to separate existence from essence, truth from error, that we are good from what we say and do, recognizing that everything that lives is holy, to echo Blake, because part of the whole, which is true, the Hegelian view, but that much of what we think is in error, that we are as Kierkegaard said basically wrong before the Truth, or as Luther said, incorrigible, and that God does the impossible literally in saving us who are evil, and so to recognize this generally, but not particularly, and thus we can say all religions are one, as Blake did. We must love God unconditionally, I say, but the reverse is not the case, as some people say, for God requires something from each of us, as is spelled out in every religion, every morality, every wisdom, and though this differs in cases, the fact is this: the forbearance of truth. We are in error, in debt, to the truth, which still loves us in order that we may yet turn to love Him. The truth is forbearance that defers the debt, and even, in jubilation, foregoes what is His due, contradicts His justice with an ever-greater mercy that forgives us anyway. Though mercy and justice are opposites they are but one act, one action that shows that the left hand of God is somehow not aware of the justice and wrath in the right, and in what is the impossible, the incomprehensible, forgives. Even bears and forbears the impossible, the truth contradicting itself, the heart of contradiction yet not contradicting the heart, for our sakes. Thus, God does the impossible and in a way or we may hope that in His mercy He denies what is His right and His prerogative, lets go, releases, renounces all out of love for a creature undeserving of this Almighty grace which shows us self-denial and asks the same of us: love one another as I have loved you. Simple, they say, hard and yet not hard, bright yet dark, smiling yet impassive, simple, yet with the absolute complexity that we cannot understand of a love that contradicts everything except love itself. The truth does not deny itself, does not lie, but just as love fulfills the law, justice is good, yet it is completed, fulfilled, by an absolute mercy that suffers contradiction on all sides, out of mercy. This is our hope. It is a hope against hope. As has been said, God is love, and we are saved in hope, and the truth itself is a charity that gives even itself away. It cannot be denied. The contradiction is also this: that in giving we receive, that only by being empty are we full. At the wall of truth, to echo Cusanus, the opposites at last meet, the coincidence, and contradiction contradicts itself, and unity is achieved beyond what human reason can know. This is the truth of mercy and the mercy of truth. The contradiction both is and is not at the same time. I do not know, I cannot know, yet I believe, I must believe. One must believe. Be perfect. Believe. Faith makes it real. I am made by God, but in faith I become real. Faith is a gift, and if I say I give something to God, then I must be contradicting myself, yet I believe He needs us even as we need Him. Therese said: How much Jesus desires to be loved! We know more than we understand, and we are told to incline not to our own understandings. The mercy of God can be seen in relation to the previously given account of the logic of the philosopher Parmenides and the dialogue by Plato about the talk the first great logician in the West had with the young Socrates. If there is a secret, it perhaps is this. If you take the logic, any logic, perhaps, which deals with truth, or any logic problem where you have the answer but have to supply the steps to prove it, on the one hand, and on the other hand, a problem from mathematics, say, simple addition, for example, then when we speak of the fact of the world, the truth of being, the meaning of things, or the mercy of God, and assert the contradictoriness of them, the truth of contradiction, the answer is that the world, truth, meaning, being, what is our ultimate concern, is more like a math problem than a logic problem. One does not reduce math to logic as in the famous logistic of Russell and Whitehead who spent much ink in “proving” that two plus two equals four. No. One does the reverse of the logistic, and converts logic into math, the truth into a number, as I show in the Metasignification about the arrival, completion and fulfillment of man and God. This reversal can be seen in that, instead of saying true and false, both and neither, and conclude that they cannot all be true, one says “four times three equals twelve.” Or simply add up everything, being-in-the-world, and arrive at the conclusion of the new summa, the sum total of the all in all. Which must be One. Absolutely Plato and Parmenides were right. The One is what is, minus what seems to be, setting aside what is not. The entire fourfold of the logical square is true all at the same time. I may seem to be agreeing with seriality and Sartre by indicating a summa or summing up, that the answer is a total count in the making, as a poet said, but I am not. Semblance is that, and it is growing indefinitely. The truth is One. When you add up all faith in the world, the thing that makes us real, and subtract all doubt, all reason, everything that is not faith, that is, the multiplicity, you arrive at One. If the truth is One, what would the Zero be? Zero is pleasure, a kind of sensual nihilism. Pleasure times anything leads to the void, as multiplying anything by zero leaves zero. To arrive at true spiritual joy, you must then not choose pleasure, but rather its opposite, pain. You must not affirm both, which would negate the One and affirm the Nothing. Pain or suffering, the cross, is something we  accept, the fact of it, and also the good of it in the wisdom of God’ providence, trusting Him. Christ says two things that may contradict each other, yet both I think according to the theory may be true. Come to me all you who are weary and carrying a heavy burden, and find your rest, for my yoke is easy and my burden is light. Deny yourselves, take up your cross and follow me. But the cross is not easy and light, or it would not be the cross. The cross is full of every kind of pain and contradiction, humiliation, suffering, and to suffer is not easy. But at least it is real. Pain and suffering are two criteria of reality, which as one poet said, is not something the human being can stand much of. Love hurts. God died on the cross, a painful death, because of His love for the Father and for us. If He calls us to the cross, to bear it with Him, how can it also be light and easy? Because at least it is real, which is not something the pleasures of life give. Pleasure is the zero, and the more it is multiplied, the more there is of nothing. Numbness is worse than pain, to feel even pain is better than not being able to feel anything at all. The cross is in a sense both hard and easy, because real, because the opposite of pleasure, because in this, despite human reason, and what appears to be our own self-interest, there is a true joy that the world cannot comprehend, peace that the world knows nothing of, a wideness to mercy, as the hymn says, a forgiveness, an understanding, a wisdom, which is the Mind of Christ. Subtracting pleasure from this will not diminish it, for pleasure is the zero, but if you multiply pleasure times any good thing that seems to be good in itself and may be, though truly God alone is Good, then in the modern calculus of utilitarian hedonism, you not only may but you must lose everything. To arrive at the One, you add up all faith, faiths of every kind, believe everything, all things as it is said, and subtract all doubt, all reason

Submitted: April 26, 2012

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