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| Photo by New York Scugnizzo |
“Be still, and know that I am God.” — Psalm 46:10The morning after returning from the woods, the city seemed louder than ever. The subway’s groan, the blaring horns, the reckless scooters careening down the sidewalk, the polyglot chatter of strangers—all of it crashed in at once, like a tide against the mind. After the silence of the forest, the noise felt invasive—almost painful. Yet soon enough, one remembers the rhythm again: coffee, train, work, conversation, distraction. The machinery of modern life resumes its ceaseless motion.
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| The Martyrdom of the Four Holy Crowned Martyrs attributed to Francesco Trevisani |
Præsta, quǽsumus, omnípotens Deus: ut, qui gloriósos Mártyres fortes in sua conessióne cognóvimus, pios apud te in nostra intercessióne sentiámus. Per Dóminum nostrum Jesum Christum. Fíllum tuum. qui tecum vivit et regnat in unitáte Spíritus Sancti, Deus, per ómnia sǽcula sæculórum.November 8th is the Feast of the Four Holy Crowned Martyrs—Claudius, Nicostratus, Simpronian, and Castorius—who lived in Rome during the reign of Emperor Diocletian (early 4th century). These Christian sculptors were commanded to carve idols of pagan gods but refused, boldly professing their faith in Christ. For their steadfastness, they were scourged and put to death.
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| b. 14 August 1777 - d. 8 November 1830 |
Eternal rest grant unto His Majesty, O Lord and let perpetual light shine upon him. May his soul, and the souls of all the faithful departed, through the mercy of God, rest in peace. Amen
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| Immacolata Concezione by Bernardo Cavallino |
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| Meme depicting Trump as "God Emperor" |
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| A moment I'll never forget—meeting His Holiness Pope Leo XIV |
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| My friend John and I at the Vatican, waiting for our audience with the Pope |
“Gambra was one of the first to understand the link that connected, on one hand, Marxism and idealism, and on the other, fascism and existentialism.”
From the outset, de Antonellis situates Gambra within the great ideological and philosophical struggles of the twentieth century, demonstrating how his thought bridges politics, theology, and metaphysics. Rather than treating him as a relic of reaction, the review presents Gambra as a thinker of surprising modernity—one who, without surrendering to modernism, understood its logic from within.
De Antonellis’s analysis of Gambra’s engagement with existentialism is particularly compelling. He notes that Gambra was not interested in creating a “Christian existentialism,” but rather in “utilizing certain elements of the existentialist reaction within the genuine conception of Christian philosophy.” This distinction, deftly unpacked, reveals Gambra’s originality and the subtlety of his philosophical approach.
The review also underscores Gambra’s engagement with figures such as Camus, Saint-Exupéry, Gustave Thibon, and Bertrand de Jouvenel—a constellation of authors rarely considered together, yet meaningfully connected through his synthesis of moral seriousness and political realism. De Antonellis highlights these influences with admirable clarity, drawing out the threads that link Catholic traditionalism to the broader intellectual currents of Europe.
Equally impressive is the treatment of Gambra’s Spanish traditionalism, particularly his defense of hispanidad as a spiritual and cultural category rather than a purely national one. De Antonellis rightly identifies in this notion the key to understanding Gambra’s vision of a civilization rooted in Christian order and historical continuity—an idea that feels all the more urgent in an age of disintegration and relativism.
Providing the backdrop to these pages, de Antonellis explains, is Spanish traditionalism itself, which toward the end of the book takes center stage. He points especially to four chapters: the acute reflections on patriotism and nationalism, where Gambra rejects the modern and romantic roots of the latter; the contrasting treatments of the “two federalisms”—the traditional form (more accurately called foralism) and the revolutionary, statist one that must never be confused with it; and finally, Gambra’s discussions of liberalism and his reconsideration of Spanish history. In all these reflections, traditionalism is embodied in Carlism and stands firm against the enemies of Hispanic Christendom.
The review closes on a note of moral and cultural clarity: Gambra’s critique of liberalism, nationalism, and statism, de Antonellis suggests, is not a rejection of modernity per se, but a call to recover a sane hierarchy of principles—a defense of the human person and the spiritual dimension of politics.
Beyond its careful exegesis, de Antonellis’s piece also serves as a reminder of the urgent need to make Gambra’s works available to a wider audience. Quello che chiamano Stato, like La Monarchia sociale e rappresentativa nel pensiero tradizionale (The Social and Representative Monarchy in Traditionalist Thought) before it, deserves to be translated into English. Without such translations, Anglophone readers remain deprived of one of the twentieth century’s most insightful and penetrating traditionalist philosophers—a thinker whose critiques of rationalism, secularism, and the modern state speak directly to our own cultural and political crises.
“The timeliness of Gambra’s writing is striking—it triumphantly withstands the passage of time.”
In sum, Gianandrea de Antonellis’s review is more than a summary; it is a learned meditation on the continuity of Christian civilization and the intellectual courage of one of its most faithful defenders. Thoughtful, well-structured, and spiritually alive, it honors both Gambra’s work and the tradition he sought to renew.
~ By Giovanni di Napoli, November 5th, Feast of the Holy Relics
Rafael Gambra, Quello che chiamano Stato, prefazione di Francesco Elias de Tejada, Premessa di Miguel Ayuso, Solfanelli, Chieti, 2025, pagg. 192, € 14,00
Sant'Uberto di Liège, ora pro nobis
Great St. Hubert, you were passionate about the hunt, but when touched by Divine Grace, you laid down your bow and took up the collar of priesthood. Known for your miracles and the conversion of many, you led countless souls to worship and glorify Our Lord. Moved by your example, I implore your help: obtain for me the Grace to follow in your footsteps and become a passionate disciple of Christ. Amen.
A few hours away was all it took to remember how quiet the world can be when left to itself. Upstate, beyond the reach of sirens and the din of digital devices, the woods were already clothed in autumn—scarlet, gold, and rust whispering beneath a pale sun. The air was sharp and honest, filled with the scent of damp earth and fallen leaves, and the silence was not emptiness but presence.
Here, without the noise and the endless commentary of modern life, the soul begins to breathe again. One can think—not in the shallow, distracted way of the city, but in that older sense of recollection, of turning inward. The rhythm of the woods restores a proper order, where all things, seen aright, lead back to God. Watching the leaves fall, I was reminded that every created thing speaks of its Maker, and that rest, rightly understood, is not escape but return—to simplicity, to gratitude, to truth.
Each year, the Feast of Sant’Uberto di Liège—the hunter turned saint—arrives with the first days of November, the month of the Holy Souls. I think then of my father, who was an avid hunter. It is a time when the world itself seems to mourn, and we are called to remember those who have gone before us.
Once a nobleman chasing stags through the Ardennes, Hubert was struck by a vision of the Crucifix between a deer’s antlers, and from that encounter his life was changed. The hunt became a prayer.
I’ve long adopted him—along with Sant'Eustachio—as patron for my father, who spent his happiest hours in the woods. For him, hunting was never mere sport, but communion: with creation, with silence, with the God who speaks through both.
The forest becomes a chapel, the stillness a litany. Every rustle in the underbrush recalls the sacred order of things—man as steward, not master, of creation. In that quiet, my father, and by extension all my ancestors, feel near again. And as I pray for their repose, Sant’Uberto’s lesson resounds: that all pursuits, rightly ordered, lead us back to the Cross—and through it, to the peace of eternity. Evviva Sant'Uberto!
~ By Giovanni di Napoli, November 4th, Feast of San Carlo Borromeo
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HRH, Prince Charles of Bourbon-Two Sicilies |
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| Photo by New York Scugnizzo |
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| St. Winfred, ora pro nobis |
We offer prayers for the victims of the knife attack aboard a Doncaster-to-London train in Cambridgeshire, England, on Saturday evening. 
St. Etheldreda, ora pro nobis
May Saint George, Saint Etheldreda, Saint Wendreda, Saint Paul, and Saint Edward the Confessor watch over them and intercede for their souls.
Prayer for the victims
Loving God, welcome into your arms the victims of violence and terrorism. Comfort their families and all who grieve for them. Help us in our fear and uncertainty, and bless us with the knowledge that we are secure in your love. Strengthen all those who work for peace, and may the peace that the world cannot give reign in our hearts. Amen.
