When I was in Grade 8 at St. Augustine School in Regina, one of the priests at the neighbouring Little Flower Church frequently asked me to be the altar server at funerals. After a few of these ventures, my teacher told me to stop taking time away from school to serve at these Masses. I considered his command and decided that since this was a Catholic school, being the server at these funerals was the right thing to do. So, I engaged in my first acts of civil disobedience.

Hate crimes

It’s sad that we have come to a time when churches and statues of saints are being defaced and vandalized.   

The news that parishes have taken a financial punch to the gut during the pandemic is not surprising. What can’t happen is allowing them to wallow in financial uncertainty, threatening the services that have defined Catholic values and, in so many ways, our lives. 

Whether or not you’ve heard the term “cancel culture,” you’ve undoubtedly been observing it just about everywhere, gaining more and more traction.

Near the end of June, I pulled into our parish parking lot full of gumption at the resumption of Masses after four months of COVID-forced church closures.

Persistence pays off.

Falling is on my list of least favourite things.

A new low

Re: Wanton destruction of religious art:

The standard dictionary definition for an iconoclast is one who attacks cherished beliefs and institutions and a destroyer of images used in religious worship.  

In the darkest days of “The Troubles,” when Northern Ireland was torn by sectarian violence and bitter political divisions, John Hume dared to see a future built on peace.

We need to stop from time to time to contemplate what it means to be Catholic in this aggressively secular society of ours. It is easy for our beliefs to be swamped by the detritus of a powerful popular culture that looks upon us with bare tolerance at best and derision at worst.