A new Planned Parenthood clinic in a minority neighborhood of Denver should be taken as an offense, affirmed the archbishop of the city.
Archbishop Charles Chaput said this at a prayer vigil and march at the site of Planned Parenthood's new clinic in a primarily Latino and African-American suburb of Denver.
The archbishop was joined by a niece of Martin Luther King, Jr., Alveda King; Reverend Willard Johnson, pastor of Macedonia Baptist Church; and Denver's Auxiliary Bishop James Conley.
"Here in America, and especially here tonight, we need to remember two basic truths," Archbishop Chaput said.
"Here's the first truth," he said. "Society has an obligation -- and Christians have a Gospel duty -- to provide adequate and compassionate support for unwed and abandoned mothers; women facing unintended pregnancies; and women struggling with the aftermath of an abortion. It's not enough to talk about 'pro-life politics.' The label 'pro-life' demands that we work to ensure social policies that will protect young woman and families, and help them generously in their need.
"Here's the second truth. Killing an unborn child is never the right answer to a woman's or society's problems. Acts of violence create a culture of violence -- and abortion is the most intimate form of violence there is. It wounds the woman, it kills the unborn child and it poisons the roots of justice and charity that bind us all into one human family."
After listening to the 42nd president of the United States address his fellow Democrats; after hearing his wife address them yesterday...it's good to hear the truth.
When King addressed the group, [about 3,000 people] she affirmed that abortion is not a partisan issue and that she would not vote for the Democratic presidential candidate unless he changes his views on abortion before November.
. . . .
Meanwhile, the opening ceremonies of the Democratic National Convention were under way in Denver. The draft of the 2008 Democratic National Platform states: "The Democratic Party strongly and unequivocally supports Roe v. Wade and a woman’s right to choose a safe and legal abortion, regardless of ability to pay, and we oppose any and all efforts to weaken or undermine that right."
"I would say that as an ardent, practicing Catholic, this is an issue that I have studied for a long time. And what I know is, over the centuries, the doctors of the church have not been able to make that definition. And Senator--St. Augustine said at three months. We don't know. The point is, is that it shouldn't have an impact on the woman's right to choose. Roe v. Wade talks about very clear definitions of when the child--first trimester, certain considerations; second trimester; not so third trimester."
What a load of you-know-what.
...(note the Speaker masterfully overcomes her error in titling him "senator") wrote in the fifth century. Science, to understate it, has come a long way since then. You know, DNA and all that stuff?
However, if the Speaker would like to read more about Augustine, artificial contraception, and abortion, she might wish to pay a visit here.
Second, about that "not so third trimester"...
Hooey. The ruling allows abortions after the third trimester. Who's kidding who? This country has abortion on demand, period, end of story (and of millions of children's lives).
Third...did she say "child?"
Speaker Pelosi, didn't you get the memo? No "child" is killed...a "fetus is terminated." You gave yourself, and your comrades, away with that one.
You may be "ardent." You may be "practicing." But, tragically, you are no longer a Roman Catholic, as you have excommunicated yourself. I believe you are sincere (believe it or not) and I also believe you are enormously ignorant. Hie yourself to a priest, repent of your actions, and come back to the Faith. There are many who pray this will happen.
At the Saddlebrook Church debate early this past week:
Rick Warren:"...when does a baby have human rights?"
Senator Obama:“Well, uh, you know, I think that whether you’re looking at it from a theological perspective or, uh, a scientific perspective, uh, answering that question with specificity, uh, you know, is, is, uh, above my pay grade.”
Was he referring to God?
That's what I hear Obama supporters claiming. I don't buy it, though.
If the question, admittedly referring to abortion on demand, was something like:
"When does a fetus have rights?" Or "When does an embryo have rights?" Or "When did the world begin?" Or "Why is the sky blue?" Or "Can you explain the Trinity?"...well, I'd give the guy the benefit of the doubt.
But for Heaven's sake, the question specifically used the term BABY!!!!
And the man-who-would-lead-the-nation thought he wasn't qualified to answer it?
Others have said it, but it bears repeating. Elected office seems to be far above Obama's pay grade.
Are you ever jealous, or envious? I know I am. It's a horrible weakness and an even worse sin.
Yesterday, in his homily, Father Dennis Brown, OMV (of Saint Francis Chapel) dropped an aside that, to me, was a bombshell.
The Gospel, if you recall, recounted Jesus' parable about the landowner who hired men to work a full day, then less of a day, then lesser, and so on. Anyway, they all got the same wage and the guys who worked the longest were ticked off...jealous.
Father Dennis briefly mentioned his childhood family gatherings.
"I really never am envious of others," he said (and of course I'm paraphrasing, having left my tape recorder at home) "and I thank my mother for this. At meals, she encouraged us to express admiration and gratitude for the gifts God gave to others. For example: `isn't it wonderful that so-and-so sings so well?' And 'I love watching whosis skate. He's so good at it!'"
You get the picture. And obviously, this loving nurturing worked.
Last winter, Father Dennis did a number on his leg while hiking.
It was so bad, they weren't even able to operate on it until Good Friday...a 10 hour surgery during which he almost lost his leg entirely, but for the grace of God and a determined surgeon. Today, yes he's limping, but he's walking and able to celebrate Mass and manage the Chapel's bookstore. And he's getting better and better.
Did I tell you I broke my foot on Easter Sunday?
Of course I did. Several times, at least. And while I've been walking sans limp for a good many weeks now, I often find myself jealous of people who walk faster than I can!
When I was a kid, we weren't allowed to badmouth anybody at home. But the memo about taking joy—joy!—in the talents of others must've escaped me.
It's not too late, is it?
I'm thinking that a good practice for me would be to, during the day and at the end of the day, thank God for giving people I come across those gifts I might not possess. To thank Him, for example, for my business partner's talent, for my competitor's savvy, for my friend's ability to dance, for another friend's athletic ability, for my sister's good husband, for my niece's children...you know.
And speaking o' children:
If you've got them, I thank God for them. And while offering a prayer of thanksgiving for Mrs. Brown, I pray that you might consider emulating her.
I'd actually prefer to think that the fad of Catholics omitting a Catholic priest's title comes from a misinterpretation of Matthew 23:9. But I'm afraid that's not true.
It's more a matter of "equality" or "inclusiveness." Or just plain idiocy.
I received a note the other day.
It was about some parish matter, but that's not the point. The note instructed me to give some information to a parish employee named "Bob."
I knew of no "Bob" on the parish staff.
It took me several hours, off and on, to figure out who the mysterious "Bob" was. Turns out he's a priest of the parish. If the note had simply identified him as "Reverend" or "Father" Bob So-and-So, there'd be no confusion.
But my confusion is immaterial when compared to the real issue, which is simply this:
Priests are chosen by Jesus Himself to carry on the ministry of the apostles, which is a tad more than performing routine office matters or being buddy-buddy with the good folks of the parish.
I understand that some priests prefer people to omit the title "Father" when addressed.
(I only know of one. And frankly, I don't care what his preference is.)
The truth, I'm afraid, is that priests are reluctant — dare I say afraid? — to correct their parishioners when they mistakenly address them by their first names.
Understandable? Sure. It's gotta be an awkward situation, and who wants to offend anybody?
You are our pastors, our leaders, our spiritual fathers. You are not are buddies, our pals, our casual acquaintances.
We need you to guide us, to shepherd us, to lead us to holiness.
We need your loving authority.
We need your paternal correction, many times.
We need your spiritual fatherhood.
So, fathers, the next time someone addresses you by your first name, grit your teeth if necessary, but correct the person.
There will be probably one or ten seconds of discomfort...and that'll pretty much be it.
"Inside Catholic" cordially invited me — along with a gazillion others via email — to read, among articles, one by Mark Shea entitled "Those Angry Traditionalists."
A fan of Mark's, I nonetheless was less than impressed by this piece. On the other hand, his phrase "liturgical fussbudget" did get me thinking.
And so I ask you...what actually constitutes "Liturgical Fussbudgetary?" (And what does not?)
Me first. I think my objection to folks waving the "peace sign" mentioned belowdoes constitute "liturgical fussbudgetary" (by the way, folks, I just made up this term so if your spell check goes wacky on it, don't worry). I mean, it's annoying, but that's about it.
On the other hand, I am not a liturgical fussbudget if I object to the celebrant leaving the sanctuary and glad-handing all the congregation. Why? Because he was told not to by his superiors.
What about you?
What objections do you have that makes you a liturgical fussbudget...and, in the same area, what objections are valid?
Christianity is about Joy, now and forever and is not limited to the Christmas Season (nor to the Easter Season, for that matter). In fact, I daresay that even during Lent there is joy to be seen, felt, touched, heard, and tasted!
Of course we all know this, but do we really know this?
Yeah, we got problems, right here in River City.
But despite stuff like weird liturgy-sin-hunger-poverty-sin-hurricanes-blasphemy- -sin-tornadoes-war-floods-sin-politics-tragedy-sickness-sorrow-death (aka-known-as- end-of-life-on-earth)-and every single nasty thing imaginable, here's the thing:
The Lord is come!
I found myself humming "Joy to the World" today and also found myself wondering why on earth the song is limited to its definition as a "Christmas carol." Consider:
Joy to the world! the Lord is come; Let earth receive her King; Let every heart prepare him room, And heaven and nature sing, And heaven and nature sing, And heaven, and heaven, and nature sing.
Now, you might say "but Kelly, the song obviously celebrates Christ's birth" to which I would intellectually respond:
Not exclusively, in my opinion. First of all, God invented "time" so we can't muck around with it to any great extent, at least as far as the Lord's coming is concerned. In other words, we can't say definitively: "This, this moment in history, is when the Lord arrived." That's just plain silly, when the Lord's been with us from Day One. Or, more correctly, vice-versa. Oh, sure, we can—in worldly terms—come close to identifying when (again in earthly terms) the Word became flesh. And sure, that was and remains a reason to rejoice.
But not the only one!
No more let sins and sorrows grow, Nor thorns infest the ground; He comes to make His blessings flow Far as the curse is found, Far as the curse is found, Far as, far as, the curse is found.
Sin itself, while horrible, is, through Christ and Christ alone, a cause for joy. There is, in Confession, the joy of forgiveness. In the Exsultet, we actually proclaim sin "happy."
O happy fault, O necessary sin of Adam, which gained for us so great a Redeemer!
(Please...no comments on the benefits of sin. If you don't know what I'm talking about, pray about it, meditate upon it, and/or ask a holy person about it.)
So, rejoice! The Lord is come!
May He grant peace to your spirit and joy to your world!
"The third reason I keep up the Holy Hour is to grow more and more into his likeness. As Paul puts it: 'We are transfigured into his likeness, from splendor to splendor.' We become like that which we gaze upon. Looking into a sunset, the face takes on a golden glow. Looking at the Eucharistic Lord for an hour transforms the heart in a mysterious way as the face of Moses was transformed after his companionship with God on the mountain. Something happens to us similar to that which happened to the disciples at Emmaus. On Easter Sunday afternoon when the Lord met them, he asked why they were so gloomy. After spending some time in his presence, and hearing again the secret of spirituality—'The Son of Man must suffer to enter into his Glory'— their time with him ended and their 'hearts were on fire'"
During daily Mass today, the priest in his homily said that since we’re all one big happy family, we should hug one another during the Sign of Peace.
Now that's just plain weird to me. Although I must admit that in my missal, after stating that the Deacon (or priest) says "Let us offer each other the sign of peace," the red instruction adds:
"The people exchange a sign of peace and love, according to local custom."
What's your "local custom?" If I were able to invent my local custom, I'd ditch the rite entirely. (Actually, the rite is optional and I silently but heartily bless any celebrant who omits it.)
Here's what I'm wondering:
Are you a sign of peace fan? If so, why, exactly? If not, what do you dislike about it most?
Although I sympathize with Dom's aversion to the hugging thing, you know what jars me the most?
The "peace sign!"
You know what I mean. Folks looking like they just left Woodstock, waving their V-shaped index and middle finger around to everybody.
I can sorta understand it, since the rite was introduced during the 1960s, but it's a tad too hippie for me. And as a quasi student of history, I tend to think of the gesture in Churchill's terms, as in "V for Victory."