Earlier this month I attended the funeral of Msgr. Gregory Haddock, a priest of Opus Dei. The homilist at St. Michael’s Cathedral said pain had been Fr. Greg’s constant companion, but he never complained. Parkinson’s disease slowly ended his life.

Over the past few weeks I’ve heard wonderful homilies about Advent. Each was about preparation for the coming of the Christ Child through prayer, the Sacrament of Reconciliation and Holy Communion.

I have two groups I associate with socially: One group consists mainly of secular friends, many I’ve known for decades during my career in journalism; the other group is Catholic, the people I’m involved with in various pro-life causes or RCIA or those I see each week at Mass.

It would be grand to believe the CBC is for everyone. It is, after all, a national broadcaster that we all support with our tax dollars, whether we want to or not.

I want to focus on a single word, one that is loaded with enough meaning to sway life or death decisions.

A few weeks ago the Sunday New York Times Magazine ran a lengthy feature about a Vancouver Island man who had chosen to die by euthanasia. John Shields, a former priest who later married, was suffering from a rare disease that caused proteins to build up in his heart and painful nerve damage in his arms and legs, the Times story said.

As I write this, I’m fixated on a photo of eight-year-old Saffie Rose, the youngest victim of the Manchester bombing. Her picture is part of a newspaper photo array of the young victims of that awful night.