Graduation season is upon us. Universities, high schools, elementary schools and these days even kindergarten cohorts celebrate and move forward to places unknown to them. 

Canadians ought to reflect on the summer of 75 years ago with an equal measure of pride and sadness.

If Canada wants reconciliation with its Indigenous citizens, Canada has to change. If the Church wants reconciliation with the Indigenous people it has harmed, the Church has to become more deeply, more truly, more fully what it is.

Do you remember how your parish prepared to celebrate the Easter Vigil? 

Critics are dubbing it “the nastiest cut.” The Ontario government’s planned termination of the Transition Child Benefit is a cruel measure that strikes at the soft underbelly of society: an estimated 16,000 children each month in low-income families who have nowhere else to turn.

The Minister of Citizenship and Immigration gestured to the buildings surrounding us on Parliament Hill. “These are the people’s houses,” said the Honourable Ahmed Hussen. “These are your institutions — please feel free and at home.” 

A mere 35 years after my Catholic conversion, I suppose I should be a little embarrassed that it is only now that I am finally getting the hang of the rosary and finding it a very powerful devotional instrument in the way that it commands and directs and focuses my prayer. What took me so long? 

Though my legs and lower vertebrae sympathetically throbbed at the prospect of spending another 16 out of 24 sleep-deprived hours sandwiched into a chartered bus barreling back and forth between London and Ottawa for the National March for Life, I thought it was important to support the largest annual protest in our nation’s capital each year. 

There were more Christian martyrs in the 20th century than in all of the previous 19 centuries combined. Hitler, Stalin, Mao, Pol Pot and many of their lesser-known totalitarian colleagues put millions of Christians to death for their faith in that terrible hundred-year period.

At Mass a few weeks ago, I heard an unusual noise coming from the entrance of the church. Without thinking, I turned and found myself fearing the worst. An attack? After Mass I asked others if they felt the same way and, to my surprise, some did.