Vera Crux
Vera Crux is Latin for “True Cross,” and is the source of
the name of the Mexican city Veracruz, which was founded
by the conquistador Hernán Cortés on Good Friday in 1519.
Veracruz became one of the richest cities in colonial Mexico
because of its substantial export of gold and silver.
Named for the day our Savior offered up
His flesh and blood upon the holy cross
(The blood from His flank caught in an angel’s cup,
The flesh consigned to Joseph). All seemed loss,
Defeat, the end, and hopeless desolation.
And yet He was triumphant over death,
And here in a new-born and new Christian nation
Our city Veracruz took her first breath.
We grew as rich as Croesus—ingots stacked
As high as mounted lancers filled the docks.
And golden nuggets in great chests were packed
As ballast in fat galleons that rocked
Like heavy cradles on their crescent frames.
Pirates swarmed, like locusts in the waves,
But cannons from our warships spouted flames—
We watched their corpses sink in briny graves.
That was where we scorned all pious tears—
We did not mill like sheep before The Lord
Waiting in humble patience for the shears,
But struck with halberd, culverin, and sword.
Our priests and friars, prating about pity,
Kept their mouths shut when we saved their skins.
They did not mind when guns preserved the city,
And did not preach to us about our sins.
That is the tale of Veracruz. The facts
Were these: that mercy didn’t save our gold;
That Spanish steel beat off those vile attacks
And gave us all new chances to grow old.
That is the Vera Crux—a bloody saber,
A ball of grapeshot in a pirate’s face;
A twenty-pounder and a guncrew’s labor
Focusing on the foemen in a chase.
Humility, forbearance, and the like
Are nice when you’re a hermit in a cell.
But if you don’t know how to wield a pike,
Right here on earth you’ll get a taste of hell.
So skip the preachy homily and sermon,
The lesson about turning other cheeks.
We saved the city from those loathsome vermin.
In war the cannon—not the Bible—speaks.
Poet’s Note
I composed this piece a few years ago, and published it under a pseudonym. It was intended as a simple fictive narration that could be taken at face value, or else as an allegorical-argumentative poem about the fatal schism in Western thought that frequently paralyzes necessary action in the face of danger.
There is an intentional contrast of the Latin phrase Vera Crux (“true cross’) with the Spanish reflex Veracruz (the name of a city) as a verbal hint of what is being argued in the text. The Latin phrase represents religious orthodoxy and all the rules and moral strictures associated with religion. The name Veracruz represents a real-world Spanish city, with a culture informed by religious orthodoxy, but faced with actual enemies and the prospect of robbery, ruin, and ravishment.
What does a rich and prosperous city do in the face of barbarians, savages, pirates, and predatory foreigners? Listen to the orthodox preachings of love, forbearance, and brotherhood from its clergy, or blast the enemy with culverin cannon and grapeshot? Will Veracruz be saved by weak, scripture-quoting effeminacy, or by warlike masculinity?
The choice of the poem’s speaker is clear. But the choice of the Western world right now is not. Are we going to continue worshipping “the Others,” and debasing and degrading ourselves before them, or are we going to blast them with broadside volleys, and tell our milksop clergy to screw off?
Joseph S. Salemi has published five books of poetry, and his poems, translations and scholarly articles have appeared in over one hundred publications world-wide. He is the editor of the literary magazine TRINACRIA and writes for Expansive Poetry On-line. He teaches in the Department of Humanities at New York University and in the Department of Classical Languages at Hunter College.
Dr. Salemi, I would ride into battle with you! Your brilliant poem reflects my own religious convictions. Several years ago, SCP published one of my poems, “On Hate,” which concluded with the phrase, “I never hated anyone who did not hate me first,” particularly referring to Old Testament biblical warfare encouraged by God. Your use of Vera Crux and Veracruz in your poem was inspired and inspiring in separating responsible defense of territory and people from the city from which it was named and the protection of the priests along with the cathedrals from predators. One must recognize in advance pirates, brigands, robbers, and enemy soldiers in advance by their teachings, actions, and depredations, and then be prepared to go to war or destroying the vermin knowing one has the blessings of God to do just that. There is a point when we run out of cheeks to turn.
I’m glad, Roy, that you referred to “Old Testament biblical warfare encouraged by God.” (In fact, He not only encouraged it; often He commanded it.) I can’t help thinking that, if orthodox Christians had always been placing as much emphasis on the Old Testament as is needed, the “fatal schism in Western thought” referred to above by Dr. Salemi, need not have happened, or at least may not have deepened as much as it has. We must indeed be prepared to go to war with our enemies. They are God’s enemies, too. But the religious leaders who are “milksops” apparently don’t take this into account. Biblically, love and forbearance don’t contradict with engaging in war with our enemies; both are necessary in different circumstances.
“And gave us all new chances to grow old” is my favorite line. That is what heroes do.
1. Cynthia, the following is the FOREWORD to my book, “Demolishing the Demons: Theology and Poetry Preparing for the New Crusades.””
FOREWORD
My theology is a return and resurrection of the old-time religion fire and brimstone sermons in poetic form. Social gospel of the past five decades has focused on a “feel good” religion in America and Europe that assuages the conscience with feelings of peace and contentment with prayer and kindness. While that is one of the ways Christ wanted us to feel, it overlooks the Old Testament teachings that Jesus said he came to fulfill without changing “one jot or tittle.” The Old Testament catalogs the wars of the Israelites in successful campaigns to exterminate kings and all humans who rejected God’s plan. Yes, David wrote the placid 23rd Psalm, but many of the Psalms of David ask God to help in destroying the enemies of the Israelites. Not just destroy—annihilate everyone including the women and children.
Forsaking the preaching of Satan’s roaming like a ravenous lion on earth and using his demon minions to wreak havoc has left the world believing Christians have become weak, reticent, subservient and to put it simply, ”too nice to counterattack anything they do.”
I hear it from my friends and even relatives that God will take care of things. Why should they be involved in physical warfare on earth? They wring their hands at current events with no motivation other than to pray and make supplication to God, when they are his representatives and instruments for Holy Warfare on earth. Yes, there it is, a Crusade to destroy evil and those who perpetrate it.
Cynthia, my book was written in prose and poetry because of the following as I placed in the Acknowledgments:
ACKNOWLEDGMENTS
My first acknowledgment is to someone who perhaps would not want her name published. She challenged me with kind quotes from the New Testament as I was posting on social media telling me of the goodness of God. She gave me scripture in Ephesians as reference about being longsuffering, patient and kind. I, in turn, told her to read Joshua in the Old Testament. Her challenge is the reason for this entire book.
CHAPTER 1
Relevance of Martin Niemöller
After World War II, Reverend Martin Niemöller made various statements regarding the silent complicity of Christians in the murder of the Jews and the events in Germany. From those statements, the most frequently quoted is this one:
“When Hitler came for the Jews… I was not a Jew; therefore,
I was not concerned. And when Hitler attacked the Catholics, I was not a Catholic, and therefore, I was not concerned. And when Hitler attacked the unions and the industrialists, I was not a member of the unions and I was not concerned. Then, Hitler attacked me and the Protestant church – and there was nobody left to be concerned.”
~Attributed to Reverend Martin Niemöller, Protestant Minister in Nazi Germany (most favored translation from
the Congressional Record, 14 October 1968.)
Seriously, do I need to point out the relevance from either a theological or political perspective? Apply that to what is happening in America with the acceleration of leftist political agendas and pressure from those who have no understanding of American history, government, or the American Revolution and Constitution, let alone the Christian teachings and perspective on the American culture and life. I am pointing specifically to generation Z, as I call it, because we had generations X and Y, and this may be the last true American generation.
I think, Joseph, you old warrior, that you have identified the crux of the matter. Practicing the tenets of your religion is not possible if you are dead. It’s like what has been said in other contexts: Kill them all and let God sort them out. Don’t do unto others as you would have them do unto you, give them what they deserve.
Thank you all for your comments, which I appreciate. I normally would have left this poem in the obscurity of anonymity, with a nom de plume rather than my real name. What changed my mind was the reactions that I heard and read from a spate of various clergymen, of all denominations, attacking President Trump for authorizing the destruction of drug-smuggling boats by our naval forces.
I was infuriated and dumbfounded. These creeps were blathering on about love and peace and human rights, and condemning our President in the strongest terms of evangelical fervor for simply protecting American citizens from the poison of drugs. And these creeps in clerical collars and Geneva bands were thumping on a Bible that gives clear orders for the genocide of entire peoples, and that has passages in the Psalms that sound like Gestapo directives.
That’s when I pulled this poem from my files and put my real name on it. I no longer really give a damn what clergymen say.