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April 2011


April 20


April 23


2011 Easter message by the President of the CCCB, Most Rev. Pierre Morissette

April 23, 2011

Most Reverend Pierre Morissette, Bishop of Saint-Jérôme and President of the Canadian Conference of Catholic Bishops [images/stories/canada/canada11/bishopmorisette.jpg]For many of us, our yearly Lenten journey has been shaped by its beginning and end. We started with the temptations of Jesus and then the vision of his transfiguration. We end by entering with him into Jerusalem, where we share with him in his suffering, death and resurrection. But what has this really meant for us, and what happened to us on the way? Sometimes we forget what the journey is really about, and fail to see what should be noticed along the route. In case you may have missed it, the three intervening Sundays of Lent told us a great deal about the Lenten journey and our entry into the Easter celebration. The readings of the Third, Fourth and Fifth Sundays of Lent invited the catechumens, as candidates for Baptism, to think over and even “test” their motives about why they want to be initiated into the community of faith. The same readings also invited the rest of the Christian community to examine its own faith journey. Three major points came forward in this year’s readings: What do we most yearn and thirst for in life (the Gospel reading of the woman at the well)? How can we see what life is really about – not only to have sight, but insight and vision (the healing of the blind man at the pool of Siloe)? How can we embrace life and stand with courage, strength and inspiration among those truly alive (the Gospel reading of the resurrection of Lazarus)? Often we simply plod along the road of faith – moving as if in some shadowy, superficial existence, not really aware. We frequently stumble on, half-hearted, hazy eyed, hesitatingly. Not fully alive, and not even aware of the deepest yearnings in our hearts, or in the hearts of our brothers and sisters. Perhaps this is why we are easily distracted along the way. There is so much talk and chatter in contemporary life. Our daily lives are filled up with the glaring sounds of radio and television, the fleeting words of text messages and websites, and the frequently disturbing and cruel remarks from blogs and social media. The Paschal Mystery is the road on which we are called to discover our deepest yearnings and most authentic needs. It gives us the light that enables us to see Light. It opens the way to life and to the truth about life. It is Life itself. The 50 days of Easter are an invitation for us to rediscover the depths of our own lives. Through the Resurrection of Christ, we see the creative and transforming strength of God’s love for us and our world. This journey in faith is the journey to eternal life. To borrow from the words of Saint Paul, God our Father who raised Christ from the dead will give life to our mortal bodies also through his Spirit that is dwelling in us (Romans, 8.11). Christ is risen! Yes, Christ is risen indeed! [http://www.cccb.ca/site/images/stories/images/morissette.gif] + Pierre Morissette Bishop of Saint-Jérôme President of the Canadian Conference of Catholic Bishops


April 24


‘The entire cosmos is rejoicing today’

April 24, 2011

Pope Benedict XVI use an incense burner as he leads the Easter Mass in Saint Peter's Square at the Vatican April 24, 2011. REUTERS/Max Rossi [images/stories/PopeBenedictXVI/Pope11/pope_easter_msg.gif]VATICAN CITY — In his Easter “urbi et orbi” blessing to the city of Rome and to the world, Pope Benedict today contrasted the joy and hope brought by Christ’s resurrection with persistent conflicts and other forms of suffering in the world. In one section of his blessing, he spoke about the need for reconciliation in parts of the Middle East and Africa: So my message today is intended for everyone, and, as a prophetic proclamation, it is intended especially for peoples and communities who are undergoing a time of suffering, that the Risen Christ may open up for them the path of freedom, justice and peace. May the Land which was the first to be flooded by the light of the Risen One rejoice. May the splendor of Christ reach the peoples of the Middle East, so that the light of peace and of human dignity may overcome the darkness of division, hate and violence. In the current conflict in Libya, may diplomacy and dialogue take the place of arms and may those who suffer as a result of the conflict be given access to humanitarian aid. In the countries of northern Africa and the Middle East, may all citizens, especially young people, work to promote the common good and to build a society where poverty is defeated and every political choice is inspired by respect for the human person. May help come from all sides to those fleeing conflict and to refugees from various African countries who have been obliged to leave all that is dear to them; may people of good will open their hearts to welcome them, so that the pressing needs of so many brothers and sisters will be met with a concerted response in a spirit of solidarity; and may our words of comfort and appreciation reach all those who make such generous efforts and offer an exemplary witness in this regard. May peaceful coexistence be restored among the peoples of Ivory Coast, where there is an urgent need to tread the path of reconciliation and pardon, in order to heal the deep wounds caused by the recent violence. May Japan find consolation and hope as it faces the dramatic consequences of the recent earthquake, along with other countries that in recent months have been tested by natural disasters which have sown pain and anguish. Last night, during a three-hour-long Easter vigil liturgy, the pope baptized six adults from Albania, China, Peru, Russia, Singapore and Switzerland. In a homily, he analyzed why the trajectory of salvation history reaches all the way back to creation — and why environmental responsibility is a Christian duty. Our profession of faith begins with the words: “We believe in God, the Father Almighty, Creator of heaven and earth”. If we omit the beginning of the Credo, the whole history of salvation becomes too limited and too small. The Church is not some kind of association that concerns itself with man’s religious needs but is limited to that objective. No, she brings man into contact with God and thus with the source of all things. Therefore we relate to God as Creator, and so we have a responsibility for creation. Our responsibility extends as far as creation because it comes from the Creator. Only because God created everything can he give us life and direct our lives. Life in the Church’s faith involves more than a set of feelings and sentiments and perhaps moral obligations. It embraces man in his entirety, from his origins to his eternal destiny. Only because creation belongs to God can we place ourselves completely in his hands. And only because he is the Creator can he give us life forever. Joy over creation, thanksgiving for creation and responsibility for it all belong together. The creation account tells us, then, that the world is a product of creative Reason. Hence it tells us that, far from there being an absence of reason and freedom at the origin of all things, the source of everything is creative Reason, love, and freedom. Here we are faced with the ultimate alternative that is at stake in the dispute between faith and unbelief: are irrationality, lack of freedom and pure chance the origin of everything, or are reason, freedom and love at the origin of being? Does the primacy belong to unreason or to reason? This is what everything hinges upon in the final analysis. As believers we answer, with the creation account and with John, that in the beginning is reason. In the beginning is freedom. Hence it is good to be a human person. It is not the case that in the expanding universe, at a late stage, in some tiny corner of the cosmos, there evolved randomly some species of living being capable of reasoning and of trying to find rationality within creation, or to bring rationality into it. If man were merely a random product of evolution in some place on the margins of the universe, then his life would make no sense or might even be a chance of nature. But no, Reason is there at the beginning: creative, divine Reason. On Good Friday, at the close of the Way of the Cross at Rome’s Colosseum, the pope spoke about the cross as a symbol of love, not of triumph. This evening, in faith, we have accompanied Jesus as he takes the final steps of his earthly journey, the most painful steps, the steps that lead to Calvary. We have heard the cries of the crowd, the words of condemnation, the insults of the soldiers, the lamentation of the Virgin Mary and of the women. Now we are immersed in the silence of this night, in the silence of the cross, the silence of death. It is a silence pregnant with the burden of pain borne by a man rejected, oppressed, downtrodden, the burden of sin which mars his face, the burden of evil. Tonight we have re-lived, deep within our hearts, the drama of Jesus, weighed down by pain, by evil, by human sin. What remains now before our eyes? It is a crucified man, a cross raised on Golgotha, a cross which seems a sign of the final defeat of the One who brought light to those immersed in darkness, the One who spoke of the power of forgiveness and of mercy, the One who asked us to believe in God’s infinite love for each human person. Despised and rejected by men, there stands before us “a man of suffering and acquainted with infirmity, one from whom others hide their faces” (Is 53:3). But let us look more closely at that man crucified between earth and heaven. Let us contemplate him more intently, and we will realize that the cross is not the banner of the victory of death, sin and evil, but rather the luminous sign of love, of God’s immense love, of something that we could never have asked, imagined or expected: God bent down over us, he lowered himself, even to the darkest corner of our lives, in order to stretch out his hand and draw us to himself, to bring us all the way to himself. The cross speaks to us of the supreme love of God and invites, today, to renew our faith in the power of that love, and to believe that in every situation of our lives, our history and our world, God is able to vanquish death, sin and evil, and to give us new, risen life. In the Son of God’s death on the cross, we find the seed of new hope for life, like the seed which dies within the earth.


April 26


Christian community is where we find the Lord in one another

April 26, 2011

Third Sunday of Easter (Year A) May 8 (Acts 2:14, 22-28; Psalm 16; 1 Peter 1:17-21; Luke 24:13-35) Many people fear the light and run from the presence of God that calls for change. Strangely, religious people are not an exception and at times the worst offenders. Every new glimmer of hope and light has been opposed, resisted and feared from the beginning of time until today. People continue to persecute and kill those who challenge humanity to move beyond fear and blindness. The truth is rarely pleasant and change is difficult. In the case of Jesus, human sin — fear, rigidity, jealousy and suspicion — did their best to destroy Jesus and everything He stood for. All of this was despite authenticating signs and wonders; in fact, these probably increased the level of fear. Peter does not pull any punches in his speech to the crowd. But something that is of God cannot be silenced or killed for truth has a power all of its own. By raising Jesus from the dead God vindicated all that Jesus said and did. Death cannot hold Him — not now or ever again. Things do not change very much. We still are not noticeably open to people who challenge our perceptions, prejudices and ways of thinking nor do we treat them with much kindness or respect. It is far easier to condemn the ideas of others than to engage in dialogue. After all, there is the terrible possibility that they may be right! We dare not read a passage like the one above with any sense of smugness or superiority. We must always ask the honest question: would we have behaved any differently? Some look at history and see nothing but a chaotic mass of events without direction or meaning. The author of 1 Peter sees something else: from the very beginning of time Christ was destined to redeem humanity. There has never been a moment in the history of the world in which God was not at work in some way on our behalf. But our author asks: in view of the blood and effort that has redeemed us can we justify a lacklustre or half-hearted response? We should exercise careful and grateful stewardship of the life that we have been granted. Often we can amass a pile of facts but lack understanding and the ability to see the big picture. In a teasing cat-and-mouse game on the road to Emmaus with the two disciples, an incognito Jesus questions them about the things that have happened in Jerusalem. The broken-hearted and disappointed disciples had witnessed the words and deeds of Jesus but they had unfortunately also been present for His judicial murder. Their bitter story ends with the account of the empty tomb related to them by the women and the fact that the empty tomb had been verified. But in spite of all this there was an absence of understanding and faith on their part. Debates about the existence of God or the truth of Christianity have a rather dismal success rate — they appeal to “facts” and “proofs” but deeper layers of the mind and heart need to be engaged. The disciples were struggling with suffering — and they have a lot of good company. It is the oldest philosophical and religious question in the world. An even greater difficulty is faced in trying to reconcile suffering with God or God’s representatives. How could God’s anointed one suffer? The passion and death of Jesus was the stumbling block for the first generation of Christians. A rather exasperated Jesus carefully unravels the hidden mystery of redemption in the Scriptures. His suffering is not a fluke or accident but is part of the divine plan — the same one mentioned in the second reading. It is only at the moment of the breaking and distribution of the bread that their eyes were opened and they recognized Jesus — who promptly vanished from their sight. This gives us an insight into how the early Christians read, interpreted and appropriated the Hebrew Bible — it was the key to understanding the life, death and resurrection of Jesus. But it was also in the breaking of the bread — the communal meal and prayer — that they encountered Jesus and experienced His guiding presence. Authentic Christian community is more than socializing. It is a place of acceptance, mutuality and trust and where we encounter the Lord in Scripture, prayer and one another.


April 27


Marisa Casagrande: I will believe in the truth of Fr. Joe

April 27, 2011

There was not a dry eye at Mass as Fr. Joe LeClair delivered his public apology at Ottawa’s Blessed Sacrament Church. This, following an article in the Ottawa Citizen that disclosed the most personal of Fr. LeClair’s financial records, described the lax financial control measures at Blessed Sacrament and insinuated that parish funds had been used to support his gambling habit. The picture was dire, the tone accusatory. And I can just imagine the many conversations which have ensued. The debate might be about the merits of the Church, the priesthood, the number of priests being called out for wrongdoings. There was a time when I too would have reacted to this story in such a way. For many years I had left the Church, believing it to be an outdated institution, way too top heavy to attract its future and imploding by its incessant focus on rules and ceremony. And then I attended Blessed Sacrament. The church was full — of young people, of music, full of good energy, or dare I say Spirit. And there was Fr. Joe and his gift of bringing the Gospel to life, of making it relevant to us today. I had witnessed these things before. But this didn’t seal the deal for me. For me, it was the depths of Fr. Joe’s humanity and his humility that stood out. He was not only a priest, he was human, just as I. Struggling, just as I. And at times hopeful and joyful, just as I. This was not just one way. He was not all knowing and all perfect. He was being honest about who he was.


Your right, and duty

April 27, 2011

The early months of 2011 have witnessed many hundreds of people killed in North Africa and the Middle East because they dared to demand the right to vote in free elections. In Canada, where freedom is taken for granted, this week’s federal election will be snubbed by 40 per cent of eligible voters. It is a sad statement about the state of our democracy when millions of citizens give voting day the cold shoulder, particularly when so many people in so many countries are giving their lives for the right to cast a ballot. In Egypt, Tunisia, Libya and Syria, hundreds have been killed this year alone by regimes that refuse to grant citizens the ballot. Canadian troops are in Afghanistan and our fighter planes are supporting Libyan freedom fighters because we believe their struggle to replace oppression with democracy is just. But at home millions of Canadian citizens, many of whom presumably support the Afghan and Libya interventions, treat their own democracy with indifference. The explanations for that are varied but none offer a good excuse for citizens to shirk their civic duty. Yes, four elections in eight years add up to voter fatigue. A string of minority parliaments has created an atmosphere of hostility in Ottawa that is off-putting to voters. There have been a series of scandals over the past decade, from the Liberals’ ad-scam fiasco to the Conservative’s Bev Oda affair, which have deepened voter cynicism. Attack ads, commonplace among all major parties, debase our democracy and foster harmful polarization in society. Yet, staying home on election day is not the answer. Catholics in particular are called to actively promote the common good by engaging in the political process. For some, that means participating in public life by standing for elected office. But for most Catholics it means, at minimum, casting a ballot on election day for a candidate who can best represent Christian values in Parliament. Voting is not an option; it is a duty. Canada’s bishops urge Catholics to carefully discern their choices. They believe a candidate’s views on life issues is a paramount consideration, as well as their position on a broad range of family and social justice matters. And even when there is no obvious choice — for example, when no candidate reflects the Church’s teaching on life — the obligation to vote remains. But it then becomes incumbent on citizens, acting respectfully, to continuously lobby MPs to advocate for a more just and moral society. In many countries, people are willing to risk death to be able to cast a ballot in an open and free election. Canadians are blessed to have that privilege. We have a civic duty to vote but, also, we owe it to our less-fortunate world brethren to respect their cause by exercising our right on election day.


Don’t sweat failure, your time will come

April 27, 2011

St. Ignatius of Loyola wrote a prayer that is often sung by Jesuits and in Jesuit schools. It begins, “Take, Lord, receive, all my liberty, my understanding, and my entire will.” It’s a lovely prayer, and I sang it happily. Then, during my PhD program, I lost the ability to understand theology. Overwork? Depression? It wasn’t due to some hysterical paralysis for I could read other things. But if I picked up anything theological, the words swam before my eyes and nothing sunk in. I had graduated from Regis magna cum laude, and now I couldn’t manage a page of Augustine. I gave up, went home and submitted to anti-depressants. I wanted to die, and so I wrote a 100,000-word novel detailing how I had died and arrived, not in heaven, but in Valhalla. Every day I took my pill and wrote my serial online. It caught the eye of a Scottish blogger, who brought it to the attention of friends who became my friends. One of them introduced me to the friend who is now my husband. I owe my present happiness to my past misery. But dropping out of the PhD was a psychic disaster. I don’t recommend it. The feelings of failure are enormous and lasting. In bad moments, I inform husband Mark that I am a terrible failure. He reminds me that I have a handsome husband and live in a big house. This is true, and it cheers me up until I remember that so much more is demanded of women of my generation. So then I ponder Gerard Manley Hopkins, S.J. Hopkins (1844-1889) is now hailed as one of the greatest poets who ever lived. This was not true in his lifetime. In his lifetime, he was a just an unusually short Jesuit priest, and not a happy or cherished one. The young convert admired Blessed John Henry Newman devotedly, but the great cardinal was not particularly interested in him. Newman was not enthusiastic about Hopkins’ wish to join the Oratorians, so Hopkins joined the Society of Jesus instead. Determined to be a good Jesuit, he burned all his early poems and promised not to write any more. Fortunately, his superior asked him to write a poem commemorating the wreck of a ship called the Deutschland. The work was not published in the Jesuit magazine that initially accepted it; although he continued to write, this made Hopkins doubt his talent as a poet. And although he had graduated from Oxford with top marks, he failed his theology exam. This meant he would never take the final vows necessary to leadership in the Society. Instead Fr. Hopkins spent his life moving from curacy to curacy, teaching post to teaching post. His poetry — unpublished until 1918 — reflects his love of God, creation and language, but also his bitter frustrations: “Thou art indeed just, Lord, if I contend With thee; but, sir, so what I plead is just. Why do sinners’ ways prosper? and why must Disappointment all I endeavour end? … Mine, O thou lord of life, send my roots rain.” Fr. Hopkins’ unhappiness became acute when he was moved to Ireland. It was not fun to be an Englishman in Ireland of the 1880s. He had a heavy workload, his eyesight was failing and he missed England and his friends. He died of typhoid at the age of 45. (To put this into perspective, all but one of his brothers and sisters lived into their 80s or 90s.) He was buried in Ireland, and more than 100 years later, a Jesuit pal of mine told me of how he and other novices stared at the gravestone commemorating him and all the other Jesuits underneath. “P. Hopkins” was just another name in the list. “Yeah,” snarled a novice. “Get in line.” The other novices laughed. La plus ça change, la plus c’est la même chose. But the story doesn’t end there, of course. Death is never the end of the story, not even if men laugh at your gravestone. Gerard Manley Hopkins died in Christ; I think we may safely hope and expect his eternal happiness. And as for his earthly success, when his poems were published in 1918 the world realized what an artist he had been. Only heaven knows how many souls have been lifted up to God through his work. I think it’s an Easter story. The Good Friday of Hopkins’ earthly life led to the Easter of his earthly poetry and will lead, I believe, to his resurrection. As for the latter, Hopkins must have thought so, too. Despite the anguish he suffered, his last recorded words, uttered on his deathbed, were, “I am so happy. I am so happy. I loved my life.”


More Catholic than the Pope himself?

April 27, 2011

The Easter issue of Maclean’s magazine featured a cover story about Pope Benedict and the state of Roman Catholicism. It was a little angry, not always accurate, and obviously had certain biases, but I’ve seen far worse in North American and European media. It also mentions my new book, Why Catholics Are Right, several times, and while not being fair, it was hardly excoriating. One thing it did say, however, was that, “Michael Coren is more Catholic than the Pope!” There, I’ve made it. My career has reached its supreme climax. I shall be applying for sainthood in the summer, walking around with a smug sense of invincible holiness, and if the kids make a noise or start fighting, I shall stare at them with a super-papal determination. That’ll shut them up. Joking aside, I suppose I’m flattered by what the journalist said, because what he actually meant was that I was very Catholic. Yes, I am. But then rather like being pregnant, you either are or you are not. There honestly is no middle or half way. It is this, I think, that so offends people who, while often good and kind and generous, want their Catholicism diluted with doses of modernism, wiggle-room and opportunities to reject what is particularly difficult. They like the easy but not the tough bits. Obviously I am not more Catholic than the Pope, because such a thing is philosophically and logically impossible. It’s an imploding theory, a flamboyant attempt to criticize someone for being too faithful.