Go, Sisters!

Gosnell Trial, from my Cardinal Archbishop

"I was pleased, and even relieved, that the court found this man guilty of these very heinous crimes. What I find difficult to understand is how some people who are horrified by these crimes somehow think that if he would have killed these babies a few minutes earlier, it would have been all right." ~~Seán Cardinal O'Malley on the Gosnell trial.

"Dedicated to my Daughter on her Sixteenth Birthday": a poem from my Mom

Sad is the time
When the age of innocence is past
And the eyes of the child
Who looked upon the bird
and the flower
with wonder and pleasure
And who put a tiny finger into the water
to watch a ripple
form and fade,
And the tiny hands
Feeling of the richness of the dewy grass,
And finding comfort
In arms that cradle her,
Until two tiny lids
As soft as petals of a rose
close over them,
And she sleeps the sleep of Angels
And awakens to new wonders
to explore
and feel
and pleasure,
Listening for sounds
Of love and softness...

She does not know
What pleasure she gives
To those who love her.

Sad is the time
When the age of innocence is past,
And the eyes of the child
Become the eyes
of a girl-woman.
Still trying to see the world
bathed in the cloak
of happiness.

Trying to blink away
the sounds of reality
as if they were not there.

Trying to understand
the new emotions
within her
and yearning still
For the love and comfort
and softness of her innocence,

And trying to conceal
her heart
from disappointments and fear
With too much talk
too much laughter
too few tears.

And she looks tenderly
Upon those who sleep
the sleep of Angels
and are cradled
in the arms of love.

Sad is the time
When the age of innocence is past!

But, from the experience
of sadness
Comes the experience of joy
In finding that God
has Blessed her,

With the capacity to love
and be loved.

In finding that life
holds many challenges
And the rewards
are gratifying.

In finding that all the fears
And frustrations of youth,
Are but a stepping stone
To a more mature
Understanding of human nature,

And in finding
That the beauty
of God's creation
can be felt
with her heart
as well as
with her hands.

Marie Victoria Kelly, April 19, 1969

May 10, My Baptismal Anniversary!

Celebrate with me! Today is the anniversary of my Baptism according to the rite of the Roman Catholic Church, by Reverend Joseph Zalibert at Saints Cyril and Methodius Church, Detroit, Michigan (the church moved to Sterling Heights, Michigan, in 1971.) I thank my parents, Leo James Kelly and Marie Victoria Ulanowicz Kelly for giving me birth, my godparents, Vincent DuRocher and Angeline Ulanowicz DuRocher, and most of all, my God Who claimed me for His own.

And I joyfully renew the vows made by my parents and godparents on my behalf!

I reject Satan, and all his works, and all his empty promises.

I believe in God, the Father Almighty, Creator of Heaven and earth.

I believe in Jesus Christ, His only Son, our Lord, Who was born of the Virgin Mary, was crucified, died, and was buried, rose from the dead, and is now seated at the right hand of the Father.

I believe in the Holy Spirit, the holy Catholic Church, the communion of saints, the forgiveness of sins, the resurrection of the body, and life everlasting.

Amen!

"Going therefore, teach ye all nations; baptizing them in the Name of the Father, and of the Son, and of the Holy Ghost." Matthew 28-19

May 6: Pope Francis honors new Swiss Guard

"You are called on to testify your faith with joy and with the kindness of your expression...This is important for all the people who pass through Vatican City, but also for those who work in the Holy See and for me too!"

Pope Francis

This ceremony is held every year on the anniversary of the heroic resistance of the Swiss Guard in defense of Pope Clement VII (1523-1534) when the protestant troops of Charles V sacked Rome on May 6, 1527.

What happened on May 6, 1527?

I heard a homily by Father Jim Doran, OMV, about it at Mass today. Following up on a google search? I found precious little. I mean, I learned that most of the Guard were slaughtered by the troops of Holy Roman Emperor Charles V (please read the words "Holy" and "Roman" judiciously.)

They came into Rome and they killed people—not just the brave guards, but lay folk, nuns, priests. Thousands of people. Perhaps as many as 12,000 people. Why? For the crime of being Catholic.

(So what else is new?)

Please pray for His Holiness, Pope Francis, and the Swiss Guards.

Martyrs of The Sack of Rome, pray for us.

Indeed Femen ladies, God loves you. And so do I! Just look:

Dear Femen ladies,

I don't know about the painted words on your naked bodies...that would be "my body, my rules." Actually, I think not. To be honest, I know you're wrong.

I mean, my hand is part of my body, right? Right. So. According to your...uh...logic? I rule my hand. Which means I can toss a grenade into a bunch of innocent people. Or create a bomb to blow up, say, in Boston.

Or I can throw water at an innocent priest I happen to disagree with.

Wrong, Femens. We can't do that. Or, well, we can, but we must not. Why? Because it's wrong. (In my country—I know so little about Brussels, forgive me—it's actually against the law.

My voice is part of my body, too. Still, I may not—and hey, you might have a law against this in Brussels, too!—cry "FIRE" in a crowded building, when there is no fire.

Indeed, you and I can both paint our naked bodies with slogans, and if that turns you on, I pity you, but that's probably your right.

'Course, your slogans are, for the most part, really silly. "My body, my rules." No, we've already poked holes into that reasoning. "Stop homophobia." Honeys, the only "homophobia" I've encountered lately is a disease people contract when they're terrified of being labeled "homophobic."

One slogan does make sense though. "God loves lesbians." Indeed God does. So does Archbishop Leonard. So do I. That's part of our Creed, ladies. Get with the program, here!

[UPDATE, May 6: What I mean to say is "God loves SINNERS." He loves you. Just doesn't like what you do when you sin. Pardon the interruption and thanks for letting me clarify. Update your slogan, why dontcha?]

So. You probably think that people are going to malign you. I suspect you hope they do, so that you can, in your own rather odd way, come to think of yourselves as martyrs. Heroines for The Cause.

Only I'm not going to do that. You know what I've been doing since I've heard about this? I've been praying for you! It's something you can't stop me from doing, can't bully me into giving up, can't laugh me out of it, can't make me so mad that I'll stop...in short? You're helpless.

May God continue to bless you.

Link to story.

Boston. Courtesy of Father John Wykes, OMV.

I'm sorry, pro-choice people...

...but it's high time you looked into the mirror.

Believe me, I was once like you. I truly believed in the slogan "a woman's right to choose." It really did appall me that I wasn't given the choice to do whatever I wanted to do with "my own" body.

But you know? I always tried to see the other side. I distinctly remember saying to my equally pro-choice husband: "Gee. If I really thought that a fetus was a human being, I'd feel as outraged as they are. But of course, it's not, right?"

I was wrong. And surely, surely, at this point? You know the truth.

That fetus is a human being. We all know that now. We, whether we choose to admit it or not, realize that abortion is simply another name for killing.

And if we don't admit it, that's our choice. We can choose to be stupid.

Or we can suck it up and face the truth.

You still have the right to choose. Is this truly what you choose? Is this anything about "women's rights?"

"Greater Love"...please pray for Fathers Carlos Lopoez and James Doran, OMV

On Tuesday, April 9, God willing, Father James Doran, OMV, will give a kidney to his friend and brother priest, Father Carlos Lopez, at Mass General Hospital.

This is a wonderful gift from Father Jim, and a wonderful thing for Father Carlos. Rejoice and be glad! This is Christianity!

Just as He said!!!!!

Habemus Papa!

Thanks to my good friends at Grassroot Films.

Saint Patrick and religious freedom

'Course I know this song has many a lore as to its origins. But I do ask that, at the end o' Saint Patrick's Day, you pray for the religious freedom of the Roman Catholic Church...and for the country of Ireland and my own country of the United States, and all the countries o' The Lord's creation, that they be spared by the evil of killing babes in the womb...and o' their souls. (My grandfather, Leo James Kelly, Sr., used to croon this tune to us):

Oh now Paddy dear, 'n did ye hear, the news that's goin' round?

The shamrock is forbid by law to grow on Irish ground!

No more Saint Patty's Day we'll keep, his colors can't be seen,

Fer there's a cruel law agin the wearin o' the green.

I met with Napper Tandy and he took me by the hand,

And he said "how's poor ol' Ireland and how then does she stand?"

She's the most distressful country that e'er yet was ever seen,

They're hangin' men and women for the wearing 'o the green!

And if the color we must wear is England's cruel red,

Let it remind us of all the blood that Ireland has shed.

Then pull the shamrock from yer head and throw it on the sod,

And never fear, twill take root there, tho under foot 'tis trod.

When the law can stop the blade o' grass from growing as they grow

And when the leaves in summer time, their color dare now show,

Then I will change the color, too I wear in my caubeen.

But 'til that day, please God, I'll stick to the wearin' o' the Green.

Reverse racism...this time in my home town

Kathy Schiffer tackles the absurdity of racism in a few terse sentences. Well worth the read.

"Humility" (a poem my mom wrote)

Humility—where has it gone
Has indifference taken its place?
Love—do we use the word so lightly
To fill an empty space?

Have our hearts become so hardened
And our eyes become so blurred,
That the cry of help around us
Is merely just a word?

Do we turn our backs to sorrow
Because we do not care,
Do we live first for tomorrow
Have we no time to spare
For the homeless and the hungry
For the child who weeps alone,
Have we become so worldly
That our hearts are made of stone?

Do the thoughts of war depress us?
Do we run away and hide?
Can we find a safer refuge
From the war we have inside?

Do we light a single candle
For the man who has much less,
Or are we far too much concerned
For our own happiness?

Do we turn our thoughts to Heaven
Only in times of need
Do we ask just for ourselves
Are we such a special breed?

Humility—where has it gone
Indifference has taken its place...
Love: we use the word so lightly,
To fill an empty space!

Marie Kelly

Sede Vacante

Jesus Ridiculed: The Crowning of Thorns

At the chapel I frequent during the week, the Rosary is prayed after every Mass. During Lent, we pray the Sorrowful Mysteries daily.

I find them difficult, frankly. I'd be lying if I didn't admit this. The most difficult to contemplate is, for me, the Third Sorrowful Mystery: Jesus is crown with thorns.

Why is this so difficult for me to dwell on?

Certainly the quick answer is the pain...thorns piercing his head, having been brutally scourged, to say nothing of betrayed...not an easy thing to think about.

But it's the humiliation that leaves me...sorrowful.

The Crowning with Thorns is, I often think, the most human thing Jesus submitted to. Why? Because, throughout his sojourn on earth, he repeatedly avoided any exaltation, any pomp, anything remotely resembling the homage due to to...well, to God. He fled those who would make him an earthly "king." Repeatedly. He went about doing good, yes, but so often asked his witnesses not to tell anything about him. Not about his works. He recoiled from praise. He couldn't help but do good, but he didn't want to be patted on the back for it, never mind made a "king."

But we didn't believe him.

Why, I wonder? Perhaps because we ourselves so often aspire to recognition...to receive that award, this raise in pay, that nomination, this compliment...I don't know.

But I do know that, for Jesus, the Crowning with Thorns was more than an excruciating headache...it was the ultimate humiliation.

Image: Detail of a stained glass window courtesy of Stained Glass Inc: www. stainedglassinc.com

It told him that we didn't get it. That we really thought he was seeking earthly glory. And we mocked him for it in a way that must have hurt so badly that I can't even begin to imagine it. Can you?

Perhaps Mary will help us here.

Imagine helplessly witnessing someone you love intimately and deeply—your child, your spouse, your best friend, someone—in unbelievable pain. Now see that person, wracked in agony, being...I don't know...fitted with a dunce cap, maybe. Mocked, certainly. Verbally tortured by the accusation of aspiring to become something he or she never wanted, all while slowly and painfully dying, naked, and without a friend in the world. Perhaps that will help us understand what the ignominious path Jesus not just chose, but embraced, meant to him...to his mother...to us.

The fact that Jesus simply died and rose again should be enough for me and for you, I suppose. But this Lent, I cannot help but think that the ridicule he bore was maybe his ultimate gift.

Ash Wednesday: Be kind, be welcoming, or at least be silent.

Okay, I understand that, God willing, churches and chapels will be mobbed on tomorrow with folks wanting—and we don't know their reasons—to receive the ashes that will, or should, remind them of their imminent mortality. Yes, I understand that, even above Easter in may churches, this is the most crowded church day of the year. Yes, I do understand that, aside from maybe Palm Sunday, Easter, and Christmas, that many of these people wouldn't recognize what a church looks like if it were the mirror they look into daily. But I'm asking you, begging you: be a Catholic. If just one of those folks looking for a dirty forehead leaves contemplating a genuine return to the Church...would that not be a glorious thing?

You can pray for that!

May God continue to bless you.

"They Have No Wine": Mary's example of prayer

I don't know about you, but I have this weird habit, in prayer, to add the solution.

As in:

"Jesus, please do this, that, and the other thing, in order to fix this, that, and the other thing."

To be more specific:

"Jesus, here's the thing. What I want you to do is somehow arrange that so-and-so be appointed to the Supreme Court. This'll help in the fight against abortion."

Or:

"Hey Jesus, my husband's cold will go away if you just CONVINCE him to use Vick's Vapo Rub, thanks so much!"

Or:

"Jesus, please make that idiot who sat next to me on the bus today stop with the profanity already, okay?"

Or:

"Jesus. Here's what we've gotta do here. Really, this will work! Just make so-and-so pro-life!"

Or:

"Look Jesus. You let So-and-so win this election and hey, we'll all be just fine, thank-you-very-much, Amen."

These are pretty sucky prayers.

Now don't get me wrong. The Church, guided by the Holy Spirit, gives us many intercessory prayers. At Mass, for example, we're encouraged to pray for the Church, the Holy Father, the sick, the dead, for faith, hope, and love.

Prayers of intercession are not wrong. Prescribing the solution is dumb.

At the wedding bash in Cana, the embarrassed groom and his bride had one of those "uh-oh" moments...the wine was running 'way short. Or maybe they weren't troubled by it, but somebody was. The parents, maybe? I don't know. I do know that our loving Mom, Mary, felt somebody's pain.

Now what did she do? She prayed! And how did she pray?

Did she say: "Hey Son, here's the thing. Snap your fingers and create some wine. Now!" Or, "Jesus, Love, make a miracle...DO something!" Or even: "Kid, look water, wine, both liquid, right? Do Mama a favor and change that water into wine, okay, that's a good boy."

Nope. She just said four words:

"They have no wine."

That was it. She didn't tell Him the solution. She told Him the problem.

And so confident was she (despite the rather droll exchange...or rather Jesus' response to her about "not being His time) that she told the wine guys: "do whatever He tells you." (A rather terrific motto of Boston's Cardinal Archbishop, by the way.)

Badda-bing. We know what happened next.

What can we learn from our Mother?

Well, we can learn how to ask for help from Jesus. We can tell Him the problem, and leave the answer to Him.

We can tell Jesus, for example:

"Jesus, my spouse is sick."

"Jesus, unborn children are dying."

"Jesus, when people take your Name in vain, it hurts me."

"Jesus, I'm lonely."

"Jesus, I'm sick."

"Jesus, my child is in trouble."

You get what I mean. Besides saving a lot of words and time, prayer like Mary's underscores the confidence you and I have in Jesus' love for us. And His Divinity!

Jesus doesn't need the answers. He actually doesn't even need the prayers.

But we do. Let's let Him do His work...without our advice.

May He continue to bless you!

January 22: A day that will live in infamy

Once again, though, Jill Stanek is asking us to ask them: "What do you mean by `choice'?"

NARAL celebrates 1/22 like it was a birthday...ironically enough.

Throughout the United States—and please God, other countries—Catholic and other Christian communities are holding prayer vigils, Masses of Reparation, a Day of Penance, and Holy Hours to powerfully and spiritually fight the culture of death. Please. Join us.

May The Author of Life continue to bless you!

Urgent prayer request from Mark Shea's reader

Our eldest child, 13 years old, was found dead yesterday morning in his bed.  Doctors have not yet determined the cause of death.  My wife and I, and his 4 younger siblings, are still in shock and in so much pain  Right before we went to bed, he and I prayed the joyful mysteries.    We’re certain he’s in heaven.  Please pray for his mother and siblings.