He’s got a point
It’s Friday afternoon. Take a break and watch this. You need a laugh.
Tip of the hat to Happy Catholic for the heads up on this one.
Pope weighs in on benefits of Internet
Pope Benedict XVI cast his net out into the deep and high-speed seas of the Internet today, when he launched the Vatican’s YouTube site, which you can see by clicking HERE. He also touted the potential benefits of the Internet in fostering respect, dialogue and friendship among people of all cultures.
“So that the Church and its message continue to be present in the great aeropagus of social communications as defined by John Paul II and so that it is not a stranger to those spaces where numerous young people search for answers and meaning in their lives, you must find new ways to spread voices and images of hope through the ever-evolving communications system that surrounds our planet,” the Pope said in a clip now posted on YouTube.
But he threw the full weight of his office behind the Google generation when he issued his Message for the 43rd World Day of Communications, which is celebrated on Jan. 24, the Feast of St. Francis de Sales, patron saint of journalists.
Speaking to young people in particular, the pope said in his message: “I ask you to introduce into the culture of this new environment of communications and information technology the values on which you have built your lives. In the early life of the Church, the great Apostles and their disciples brought the Good News of Jesus to the Greek and Roman world. Just as, at that time, a fruitful evangelization required that careful attention be given to understanding the culture and customs of those pagan peoples so that the truth of the gospel would touch their hearts and minds, so also today, the proclamation of Christ in the world of new technologies requires a profound knowledge of this world if the technologies are to serve our mission adequately. It falls, in particular, to young people, who have an almost spontaneous affinity for the new means of communication, to take on the responsibility for the evangelization of this “digital continent”. Be sure to announce the Gospel to your contemporaries with enthusiasm. You know their fears and their hopes, their aspirations and their disappointments: the greatest gift you can give to them is to share with them the ‘Good News’ of a God who became man, who suffered, died and rose again to save all people.”
You can read Pope Benedict’s full message by clicking HERE.
Marching for life
It’s been a very long time since I’ve boarded a bus and headed to Washington, D.C., for the annual March for Life. Time was, back when I was in high school, that was a regular — and always powerful — event for me. Despite motion sickness from the long drive and often freezing temperatures with snow or rain thrown in for good measure, that quiet and prayerful walk along the streets of our nation’s capital with thousands and thousands of other like-minded people left a deep and lasting impression. I guess back then I never imagined that all these years later the march would still be needed. In fact, needed more than ever.
What is sure to come — promised by an ardently pro-abortion administration — in the months and years ahead does not bode well for the millions of unborn children who will never get the right to life that is guaranteed them not only by God but by our constitution. Nor does it bode well for the millions of women who will be told that abortion is the only option or the best option, leaving them with a gaping hole in their souls that is too often never healed or even acknowledged.
Back when I was in college, when I would take every opportunity given to stand up in a class — speech, philosophy, English, religion — and talk about the evils of abortion, I would often fall back on something that Americans understand — burden of proof. And I would tell my classmates and my obviously pro-choice professors that if they could not prove that a child in the womb was not a person, then they had to give the baby the benefit of the doubt or risk becoming complicit in murder. Today, as science continues to give us deeper and clearer glimpses into life within the womb, it has become undeniable that the little person sucking her thumb or grabbing his toes or kicking her mother’s belly is very much alive. And so the debate has shifted, with abortion advocates now trying to make this not about whether it’s a life (because they know they can’t win that one) but about whose life is worth more. In the end, we all know you can never take one life to benefit another. But for reasons beyond comprehension, abortion has been given a pass in that department. Where people will rise to defend the killing of abused or near extinct animals, murderers sitting on death row, even trees in our rapidly vanishing rain forest, they remain oddly silent on babies at risk in their mothers’ wombs.
The people who are marching in Washington today — the 36th anniversary of Roe vs. Wade — recognize the horror of abortion, and they refuse to sit back and do nothing. They go out into the cold year after year, willing to walk quietly past the angry stares and even angrier rhetoric of the opposition. They pray, they carry their signs in silence, they take comfort in the knowledge that they are defending the defenseless even when the media ignores them or tries to paint them as extremists for standing up for the vulnerable little lives that deserve the same chance that every one of us was given. And so today we honor those marchers for being willing to put a cause before comfort, for speaking out through their presence, for representing all of us who cannot be with them on the streets but are very much with them in spirit.
Changing perspective
Since about a year ago or so, I’ve been somewhat obsessed with the idea of getting to Italy in the not-too-distant future. “Italy by 50” has been my motto, giving me about four years to make my dream come true. I read books about Italy, watch movies set in Italy, looking longingly at photos of anything to do with Italy — landscape, art, food, you name it and, if it’s Italian, I’m interested.
Part of my desire to go to Italy has to do with the fact that I’ve worked for the Church for so long and have yet to visit the home office. Part of it has to do with my more recent fascination with all things Franciscan and the urge to experience Assisi for myself, and part of it has to do with my Italian ancestors and my need to walk where they once walked and to witness my heritage first hand.
I was going merrily along with my “Italy by 50” plan, when all of a sudden, without warning, I did a 180 for reasons I still can’t put my finger on. What if getting to Italy doesn’t really matter? What if I just take Italy off the table? Does that make my life here less than it is now? No. Does it mean the rest of my life won’t be full enough? No. I’m not sure where this new perspective is coming from. The best way to describe it is a feeling of folding in. I don’t mean that in a negative, self-defeatist sort of way but in an unencumbered, realistic way. Rather than feel disappointed by the fact that I will most likely never get to Italy, I feel a sense of quiet neutrality, acceptance, even peace. I don’t know what to make of it, really. I find it all kind of curious.
Now, if someone handed me tickets and told me I could go to Italy tomorrow, would I go? You bet. But I don’t feel a driving need to figure out how to make it happen anymore. If I’m meant to get there, I guess it will happen some day. I just don’t think it’s likely and, for the first time in a while, I don’t really mind. I think it’s called detachment. Wish I could put that into play in some are areas of my life.
Five for five on Friday
OK, for those of you who regularly pray the Liturgy of the Hours, this is not going to sound like anything special, but for me it is a really big deal. I managed to pray Morning Prayer every day this week. First time ever that I’ve said any hour for that many days consecutively. I even managed to get Night Prayer in there three times. Evening Prayer continues to be a conundrum. That’s just a really tough time of day for families, I think. Dinner is in the works, homework is ready for checking, preschoolers are overtired and in need of attention. It’s just not a great hour for prayer, so I’m taking suggestions from those of you busy moms and dad who still manage to work it in.
Directly related to all this is my new-found interest in the Psalms. Before I got on the Liturgy of the Hours kick, I was whining about how the Psalms — other than a few that are real stand-outs for me personally — just don’t do much for me. Well, I’m finding that, after only five days of this, I’m already starting to connect with the Psalms in a new way. Maybe it’s where I am in my life right now, but the Psalms are really speaking to me, making me realize that I’ve been missing out on quite a lot by giving them such short shrift in the past.
I’m still trying to find a way to balance LOH with other prayer and reflection. I like to read spiritual books and reflect on particular passages by certain saints or authors. When I’m making time for the Divine Office, it means I don’t have as much time for other spiritual reading or contemplation. So I still haven’t figured out how all of this will work for me, but I do have to say that I’m really liking the LOH routine. I go to my prayer space (in my office section of the basement — see photo above), click on the battery powered candle on my book shelf (I love real candles but I just don’t think fire and books and basements go that well together), I burn some incense, and I’m on my prayerful way. I have to remember to turn the volume off on my computer, however, or I get distracted every time an email comes in with a “bling.”
Will I keep it up over the weekend? Will I eventually add in other hours? Will I some day graduate from the single volume to the full four-volume set (a move that one emailer told me caused her to fall off the LOH wagon)? Will I be able to get the flipping of pages once Lent begins? Stay tuned. And, again, please share you secrets for working this into your busy lives.
