Painproof? Hardly! Apologies for not writing recently; lots of pain lately, still trying to shake infection, may have to see an infectious disease doctor. Keep me in your thoughts and prayers if you would. Pax et Bonum, Vivat Jesus
Am I just woefully oblivious to current events, or is there anyone else who hasn't heard about this?On January 9th, Joy Behar (whoever she is supposed to be, I never heard of her before this)said the following on "The View";
"I have a theory that you can’t find any saints anymore because of psychotropic medication. I think that [in] the old days, the saints were hearing voices and they didn’t have any Thorazine to calm them down," Behar said on ABC's daily chatfest. "Now that we have all of this medication available to us, you can’t find a saint anymore."
Now, I'm not really offended by this, as it really sounds like a bunch of ignorant people whove perhaps read one too many Jack Chick tracts, but now that I've actually done some research on who Behar is (I still dont understand why she thinks her opinion should matter so much to the rest of us), I have to ask; Where did you learn about the Saints Joy? Do you think that all the saints that were ever to be were chosen millenia ago? Have you ever heard of Maximillian Kolbe? Last time I read up on him, he just gave his life to save the life of a Polish soldier who was also a prisoner at Auschwitz, he didnt hear voices, or need medication, he just simply did what was right, what was Christ like.....
What about Padre Pio?Katherine Drexel? Edith Stein? Solanus Casey? Ok, so he's not a full saint yet, but you get the picture. There are hundreds of Saints, who never heard voices, probably never had visions, but yet had some amazing gift that they gave to the world. people like you are a great dissapointment, because you say these crass things without giving them a single thought beforehand.
The entire transcript where Behar espouts the vast expanse of her ignorance of the Catholic Faith can be found here.
A friend of mine (via my other blog) just had one of his poems read on the Writers Almanac. I had been entertaining the notion that I should buy his book, and now it is no longer a notion, but rather a mission. Just read it and visit hius blog Lightning and Ashes, you need nothing else from me, save to say you wont be sorry....
What My Father Believed
He didn't know about the Rock of Ages or bringing in the sheaves or Jacob's ladder or gathering at the beautiful river that flows beneath the throne of God. He'd never heard of the Baltimore Catechism either, and didn't know the purpose of life was to love and honor and serve God.
He'd been to the village church as a boy in Poland, and knew he was Catholic because his mother and father were buried in a cemetery under wooden crosses. His sister Catherine was buried there too.
The day their mother died Catherine took to the kitchen corner where the stove sat, and cried. She wouldn't eat or drink, just cried until she died there, died of a broken heart. She was three or four years old, he was five.
What he knew about the nature of God and religion came from the sermons the priests told at mass, and this got mixed up with his own life. He knew living was hard, and that even children are meant to suffer. Sometimes, when he was drinking he'd ask, "Didn't God send his own son here to suffer?"
My father believed we are here to lift logs that can't be lifted, to hammer steel nails so bent they crack when we hit them. In the slave labor camps in Germany, He'd seen men try the impossible and fail.
He believed life is hard, and we should help each other. If you see someone on a cross, his weight pulling him down and breaking his muscles, you should try to lift him, even if only for a minute, even though you know lifting won't save him.
I have delted this post because I promised myself that I would not turn this into a political blog. I care about what happens, but it is not the most important thing to me, and so I have chosen to stay away from it as much as possible.Pax et Bonum, Vivat Jesus
"The beginning of love is to let those we love be perfectly themselves, and not to twist them to fit our own image. Otherwise we love only the reflection of ourselves we find in them." ~Thomas Merton~
My oldest son, Lord I love him sooooo much, he's such a good kid, but he is always talking in school. It's his one fault, he doesnt know when to be quiet. I know he's only 6, and as such, he just goes with the flow, as 6 year olds are apt to do. He doesnt mean any harm, but he gets red marks for talking, and I find myself yelling at him, lecturing him like my Father did me, and I am horrified by this stark fact. What can I do? I want him to do good in school, i want him to have fun, and make friends, but I dont want him to get on his teachers bad side. Am I over reacting? Do I stop my lecturing - seeing as how it is my Father showing up in me- and just let him be? What do I do now? Pax et Bonum, Vivat Jesus