I know I'm giving you a lot of information, but we need to shift gears. (Yes, read the other posts and comment -- it's important stuff.) For those who have little to do now but pray (you've written to Abp. Chaput, you've let the appropriate people know your plans concerning the Movement, and you've returned your loving gaze to your spouse and bambinos) there may be some quiet reflective work you can do at the beach, in the bleachers, walking through the woods, or while the kids are outside.
Over the years, I noticed that the methodology incorporated parental fears for their children's salvation. We see the wild and wooly world, and we know the snares laid for them in all directions. We embraced the Legion because we thought it was not only safe, but arming our children for spiritual warfare in which they would enage all their lives. Well, they are in a battle, but I want you to recognise that the tools of the Legion became part of the battle, but not a helpful part. Perhaps even a pernicious part.
I can personally attest to subtle threats concerning children -- threats that bordered on curses. Consider what we're doing to form our kids in all sorts of ways. We want them to be thrifty, resourceful, honest, brave and true. We want them to pick up after themselves, be considerate of others, and accountable for their actions. For those last three examples, the opposite would be sloppy, selfish, and sneaky. Kids are all three of those things on occasion and when we blow a gasket, we may call them out on it. We may [gasp] call them names. (Bless me, Father, for I have sinned...) We've all been there I think.
The danger comes with our wording, and I've learned over the years (the hard way) that such name-calling can be considered curses. You've all had a girl-friend who was a mess -- because her mother always told her she was a mess. Chicken? Egg? You know the drill.
Now we consider the Legion way. Brother Earnest comes to your house to recruit Pious Son to the Apostolic School. PS squirms a bit, doesn't seem disposed to leave home (and Little League, where's he's had a great year) and BE appeals off-line to the parents: "PS is in a precarious spot. He's docile now, but about to enter Middle School where he's going to encounter lots of temptations. You have an open window that will very shortly shut. You should really consider placing him with us."
The parents have their fears, they know their son and finally say, "Well, he's really not interested yet. Could we think about this in a few years?"
This is where I'm really concerned about how things are worded. BE looks the parents in the eye, and says: "Your son has a very strong chance of losing his faith. This opportunity won't come again."
Now, how is that different from "You're so selfish!" or "You're a liar!" Is it a label? Is it a curse? Is it simply genuine concern (backed by Legion-mandated quotas)? Consider all the ways that children are guided in spiritual direction. Consider the pressures placed on them to give their lives to God or suffer (or worse: to let down the souls that "count on them.")
If you have anecdotes to add to flesh out this concern, please share so that all parents can consider the burdens their children may carry in secret. Consider the "failed" vocations -- the men who came home thinking they weren't good enough (or generous enough) to be a part of the Elite Corps. Consider the consecrated women who came home confused about having "divorced" Jesus.
If you find the need, renounce these threats and curses and call upon the Blood of Jesus to bring healing. The Legion Shredder has been hard at work -- so that those who don't "build the Kingdom" pay the price. Nonsense! We have Someone who already paid the price, and He is more powerful than any spell or curse.
The girls (Susan and Lucy) cleared away the remains of the gnawed ropes. Aslan looked more like himself without them. Every moment his dead face looked nobler, as the light grew and they could see it better.
In the wood behind them a bird gave a chuckling sound. It had been so still for hours and hours that it startled them. Then another bird answered it. Soon there were birds singing all over the place.
It was quite definitely early morning now, not late night.
“I’m so cold,” said Lucy.
“So am I,” said Susan. “Let’s walk about a bit.”
They walked to the eastern edge of the hill and looked down. The one big star had almost disappeared. The country all looked dark gray, but beyond, at the very end of the world, the sea showed pale. The sky began to turn red. They walked to and fro more times than they could count between the dead Aslan and the eastern ridge, trying to keep warm; and oh, how tired their legs felt. Then at last, as they stood for a moment looking out toward the sea and Cair Paravel the red turned to gold along the line where the sea and the sky met and very slowly up came the edge of the sun. At that moment they heard from behind them a loud noise–a great cracking, deafening noise as if a giant had broken a giant’s plate.
“What’s that?” said Lucy, clutching Susan’s arm.
“I-I feel afraid to turn round,” said Susan; “something awful is happening.”
“They’re doing something worse to Him,” said Lucy. “Come on!” And she turned, pulling Susan round with her.
The rising of the sun had made everything look so different–all colors and shadows were changed–that for a moment they didn’t see the important thing. Then they did. The Stone Table was broken into two pieces by a great crack that ran down it from end to end; and there was no Aslan.
“Oh, oh, oh!” cried the two girls, rushing back to the Table.
“Oh, it’s too bad,” sobbed Lucy; “they might have left the body alone.”
“Who’s done it? cried Susan. “What does it mean? Is it more magic?”
“YES!” said a great voice behind their backs. “It is more magic.” They looked round. There, shining in the sunrise, larger than they had seen him before, shaking his mane stood Aslan himself.
“Oh, Aslan!” cried both the children, staring up at him, almost as much frightened as they were glad.
“Aren’t you dead then, dear Aslan?” said Lucy.
“Not now,” said Aslan.
“You’re not–not a–?” asked Susan in a shaky voice. She couldn’t bring herself to say the word ghost. Aslan stooped his golden head and licked her forehead. The warmth of his breath and a rich sort of smell that seemed to hang about his hair came over her.
“Do I look it?” he said.
“Oh, you’re real, you’re real! Oh, Aslan!” cried Lucy, and both girls flung themselves upon him and covered him with kisses.
“But what does it all mean?” asked Susan when they were somewhat calmer.
“It means,” said Aslan, “that though the Witch knew the Deep Magic, there is a magic deeper still which she did not know. Her knowledge goes back only to the dawn of time. But if she could have looked a little further back, into the stillness and the darkness before Time dawned, she would have read there a different incantation. She would have known that when a willing victim who has committed no treachery was killed in a traitor’s stead, the Table would crack and Death itself would start working backward.”