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A letter from Toronto Archbishop Francis Leo on the Consecration to the Blessed Virgin Mary on the Solemnity of the Annunciation of Our Lord.

The movie Mother Cabrini is a beautiful tribute to this strong missionary who, overcoming obstacle after obstacle including her poor health, founded schools and orphanages all over the world.

Yet another media story slides by portending discouragement of the Faith in a political atmosphere that sometimes seems concocted to deny breath to religious belief.

I alternate my Sunday Mass going equally between a Traditional Latin Mass church in downtown Montreal and a boisterous French-speaking Novus Ordo parish on the West Island.

Further to Andrew Bennett’s recent article on Fiducia supplicans, here is a quotation from Bishop Gemma of Isernia, Italy on June 29, 1992:

First, it was the unlikely Chardonnay-and-ketamine like pairing of Margaret Atwood and Elon Musk that raised alarms about the federal government’s proposed Online Harms Act. Now, someone with years of practice adjudicating human rights law has launched a fusillade against Bill C-63 that should set the ears of all Canadians, including Liberal caucus members, buzzing.

Pope Francis’ message to the plenary session of the Dicastery of Evangelization on March 15, 2024 in Rome.

As we journey through our life as Christians, seeking to grow in faith and wisdom, we discover we are hard-wired as human beings that bear God’s image and likeness to seek truth, beauty and goodness. These are properties of being, of God. He reveals this to Moses in Exodus chapter 3 when Moses asks God what His name is. God tells him, “I AM WHO I AM.”

I’ve read many — far too many — Holocaust accounts, and despite too much familiarity with the horrors and depravity, my emotions usually get the better of me. It’s not unlike from what I’ve heard from friends who have walked under the Auschwitz concentration camp’s entrance gates and its ominous “Arbeit macht frei” — “Work sets you free” — and are reminded of horrors past: you arrive knowing fully well what to expect, yet the tears still flow.

The first I heard of Fr. Ron Rolheiser was when I was a bushy-tailed editor of the Western Catholic Reporter in Edmonton still in my 20s. An article he had written showed up in the mail one sunny day in 1982 from Belgium where he was studying, and he wanted to know if we would publish it. The subject was revirginization, a possibility that had never previously crossed my mind. Nevertheless, the brilliance of the article astonished me, and I eagerly published it as well as another article he sent.

I never knew the lady’s real name. When I met her she said, “Just call me Chilli, that’s my street name.”

Readers of this column will know her as “The woman who lives in a doorway downtown.” It has been 10 months since we first met. At that time, she gave me some money to go and buy clothes for her from a nearby shop. When I returned, we sat on the step together as she poured out her grief for her son who was taken from her at nine years old.