Peter Stockland

At Montreal’s Concordia University, where I study the wonders of Ireland north and south for several hours each week, a large sign asks students how they feel about climate change.

Early in junior high school, I watched a kid named Frank play out what I was certain, even then, would be a pattern for his life.

Belfast, Northern Ireland -- In the mid-19th century, St. Malachy’s Church on Alfred Street added to its existing structure the largest bell in a city full of Catholic churches and Protestant houses of worship.

There can be no denying Canadians are heading into summer 2019 after one of the darkest years for religious freedom in the country’s history. 

I can never decide whether it’s the optimist or the masochist in me that believes the relentless assault on conscience rights is set to collapse under its own absurdity.

There’s a sense of critical urgency about marking the 75th anniversary of the June 6, 1944 D-Day invasion of Normandy. 

It’s an urgency born of the practical fact of life that the surviving combatants being feted for their heroism during what became the liberation of France, and ultimately Europe, are extremely unlikely to be on Earth for an 80th commemoration.

Even those who resisted expansion of gay rights from the mid-1990s to 2011 ultimately conceded the absurdity of the U.S. military’s so-called “don’t ask/don’t tell” policy. 

Until five minutes before The Curse of La Llorona began, my wife and I were the only people in the darkened void of the theatre at our local Cineplex.

A week before celebrating the Resurrection, we had the resurrection of Resurrection.

I’ve begun to call it the Gospel on the Green Line.