Did wearing my big brother’s army jacket make me a soldier? Does attending the Eucharistic celebration and praying aloud, while “going our own way” otherwise, make me a Catholic? Certainly not. Bishop Fulton Sheen wrote that attending Mass religiously is the least one “must” do to be Catholic. There is knowledge, education, training and an absolute “way of life” to be lived, to be a soldier, and probably even more so, to be a genuine, mature, Catholic. Belief in acceptance of, and surrender to, Christ and “all things Catholic” is of course necessary for true Catholicism.
The Catholic faith is to submit to the Good Shepherd and the rock, His Church. Humans are flawed so we fall short. Humans are culture and the dominant culture is skewed from the way, the truth and the life so I was neither shocked nor surprised by the results of the poll. A devout Catholic is one who enters through the narrow gate because that is where the treasure resides.
The appalling contemporary throwback known by its cutesy euphemism “medical aid in dying” (MAiD) is now making its death fingered presence felt in the nation’s jail houses.
A recent Sunday Gospel was about the puzzling “sin against the Holy Spirit.” Puzzling and terrifying because Jesus is clear about its consequence: this sin “will not be forgiven in this life or the next.” (Mark 3:20-25) How can an all-loving God, full of mercy, who will forgive our worse offences, also tell us there is such a thing as an unforgivable sin? Most of all, how can I make sure I never commit this sin?
My father was a frugal man who categorically rejected going into debt. He warned me against this way of life more than I can recall. When he and my mother bought their modest home in Regina in 1954, they paid cash. Dad bought used cars, again always paying up front.
Structurally, within our very life, the human person is one who thirsts and expects something beyond ourselves. Consequently, faith is a response to these authentic needs already ineradicably embedded in us.
Pizzelle. Pizzelle?
I was intrigued. Is it a miniature pizza?
No, it turns out, it’s a delicious Italian wafer, and was part of a joyful parish project that manifested God’s love and compassion during recently challenging times.
Canada’s Catholic bishops deserve full credit for sticking with their commitment to, as Edmonton Archbishop Richard Smith has framed it, walk the whole long path of Indigenous reconciliation.
It all sounded so safe, so ‘progressive’. The 2018 Cannabis Act promised to “minimize harms” to Canadians as it enabled ‘recreational’ users to legally possess and consume cannabis without fear of a criminal record, which would stigmatize them for life.
Not long ago, I was presenting a Theology of the Body series at Emmanuel Reformed Church in Whitby, Ontario. I was teaching Catholics, but some elderly women from the Reformed congregation began attending the classes. One in particular was keen to understand what Catholics believe about many different issues. When she got to the topic of euthanasia, her reasoning went along utilitarian lines. “If people can no longer contribute to society, and they don’t have many more years in front of them anyway, it’s okay to choose to die a little sooner, isn’t it?”
In 1972, I joined a group of students who occupied the Dean of Arts’ office at the University of Regina. Our goal was to win parity for students on all departmental committees in the Faculty of Arts. After one night of sleeping on the floor of a crowded room, I had to leave the protest. I became sick and returned home to rest and recuperate.