Seventy years ago, on April 29, 1945, the largest monastery in the world was closed by the U.S. armed forces.

With two decisions this spring, the Supreme Court of Canada set laudable boundaries between the necessarily neutral state and the exercise of religious freedom.

The institutions of society should always show respect and tolerance for people of every faith or no faith. The goal should be inclusiveness and accommodation. That’s how a genuinely pluralistic, multicultural society works.

With his wire-to-wire win at the Masters golf tournament this month, Jordan Spieth proved an old adage wrong: Nice guys don’t have to finish last.

The words to describe Islamic State atrocities have been all but exhausted. The bloodcurdling images in the news of their attacks stir the deepest resentment and there appears to be no end in sight to their violent activities. All of society feels insecure and vulnerable.  

Cardinal Francis George, recently retired archbishop of Chicago, died in his bed at home, as he said he would. In his latter years, the intellectual leader of the Catholic Church in the United States was famous for his bleak view of the future of religious liberty in America.

“A little mercy,” Pope Francis once said, “makes the world less cold and more just.”

This Sunday marks the 10th anniversary of the election of Joseph Ratzinger as Pope Benedict XVI, a treasure for the Church in his long theological service as a scholar, his more than 20 years at the side of St. John Paul II as the chief lieutenant of the signal pontificate of our era, his eight years as perhaps the clearest and most profound papal preacher and writer of our time, and finally for the courage and humility of his abdication.

There’s a moment in Al Pacino’s new film Danny Collins when the eponymous character, alone in his dressing room, touches the ornate Cross nested in his ancient rock star chest hair. The gesture is cinematic sleight of hand.
In the next frame, Collins uncaps the crucifix and pours out a few lines of cocaine to put up his nose so his show can go on. The sign of our faith, in the fingers of a pop icon, turns into yet another clever cache for the pursuit of becoming comfortably numb.

Now that I am under no professional obligation to read court decisions, I generally avoid them. The turgid prose, the unctuous self-regard and the complacent sense of judicial superiority I find unpleasant and soporific.