This isn’t my usual sort of editorial advice article. In all ironic likelihood, I won’t edit this post as rigorously as most of my others, either.
Yet, I feel compelled to write this thing that’s not related to fantasy fiction, meaning it doesn’t belong in the Vaporous Realms. And so it must go here.
Amid current events, and in light of recent history, I can’t shake "The Second Coming” from my mind. Not that Second Coming—well, yes, that too. But primarily I’m talking about the Yeats poem, over a century old now. It’s about a world succumbing to a vortext of chaos, on the precipice of ruin and momentous reversal. Feel familiar?
The poet invoked religious themes and imagery to describe this apocalyptic situation, though my casual understanding is that he himself came at the subject from more of an esoteric philosophical vantage. Yeats was not American, but a cursory glance at this country’s brief existence seems to lend his theory of historical cycles a glimmer of credence. We find ourselves beset by a particularly virulent sort of chaos every half-century, give or take.
I firmly believe that chaos is our primordial enemy. Disorder has been the antithesis of good ever since the Lord put the waters in check to begin His creation.
The proper ordering of a sentence isn’t generally a matter of good and evil, mind you. And even to me as a professional editor, grammatical niceties seem ephemeral to the point of vanity when “anarchy is loosed,” “innocence is drowned,” and “the beast slouches towards Bethlehem to be born.”
But, you know what does matter?
Words—including those that pass between human beings.
Intentionality—resisting apathy. Refusing to be one of those folks who ought to stand against chaos but instead “lack all conviction,” mistaking polite decorum and respectability for moral propriety.
And preserving. Cultivating an instinct to defend what is established against the kinds of villains whose impulse is to break and burn things they’re too simple to understand and too wicked to learn. Tearing down the little things doesn’t always lead to tearing down the big things, but it’s the kind of conditioning I’m sure evil finds useful. The astonishing array of public reactions to tragic events seems to bear that out.
Can we help the center hold by enforcing comma consistency or aligning subjects and verbs? No—and as a theological and practical matter, I don’t think the center is tenable in the grand scheme of things.
But, can we make a difference? Yes, I think so. Whatever ramparts life and the Lord have brought you to, make sure you’re on the right side of them. Then hold them. That means something, even if you fail. Even if you fall.