Feast of the Martyrs of Nagasaki, Japan in 1597

February 6th is the Feast of the Martyrs of Nagasaki.  In 1597, St. Paul Miki and Companions were crucified on a hill overlooking Nagasaki.

Shorty before the United States entered the Second World War, a Japanese man took Paul - from St. Paul MIki - as his baptismal name.  Paul Takashi Nagai was a physician in Nagasaki, and he survived the atomic bomb which was dropped on it on August 9, 1945.  He pointed out, in a speech given for the funeral for the 8,000 Catholics who died in Nagasaki, how the Cathedral had been offered up as a sacrifice for an end to the war:

On August 9, 1945, at 10:30 A.M. a meeting of the Supreme Council of War was held at the Imperial Headquarters to decide whether Japan should capitulate or continue to wage war. At that moment the world was at a crossroads. A decision was being made that would either bring about a new and lasting peace or throw the human family into further cruel bloodshed and carnage.    

And just at that same time, at two minutes past eleven in the morning, an atomic bomb exploded over our district of Urakami in Nagasaki. In an instant, eight thousand Christians were called into the hands of God, while in a few hours the fierce flames reduced to ashes this sacred territory of the East. At midnight of that same night the cathedral suddenly burst into flames and was burned to the ground. And exactly at that time in the Imperial Palace, His Majesty the Emperor made known his sacred decision to bring the war to an end.

On August 15, the Imperial Rescript which put an end to the fighting was formally promulgated, and the whole world welcomed a day of peace. This day was also the great feast of the Assumption of the Virgin Mary. It is significant to reflect that Urakami Cathedral was dedicated to her. And we must ask if this convergence of events—the ending of the war and the celebration of her feast—was merely coincidental or if there was here some mysterious providence of God.

I have heard that the second atomic bomb, calculated to deal a deadly blow to the war potential of Japan, was originally destined for another city. But since the sky over that city was covered with clouds, the American pilots found it impossible to aim at their target. Consequently, they suddenly changed their plans and decided to drop the bomb on Nagasaki, the secondary target. However, yet another hitch occurred. As the bomb fell, cloud and wind carried it slightly north of the munitions factories over which it was supposed to explode and it exploded above the cathedral.

	Dr. Nagai praying

This is what I have heard. If it is true, the American pilots did not aim at Urakami. It was the providence of God that carried the bomb to that destination.

Is there not a profound relationship between the destruction of Nagasaki and the end of the war? 

Nagasaki, the only holy place in all Japan—was it not chosen as a victim, a pure lamb, to be slaughtered and burned on the altar of sacrifice to expiate the sins committed by humanity in the Second World War?

The human family has inherited the sin of Adam who ate the fruit of the forbidden tree; we have inherited the sin of Cain who killed his younger brother; we have forgotten that we are children of God; we have believed in idols; we have disobeyed the law of love. Joyfully we have hated one another; joyfully we have killed one another. And now at last we have brought this great and evil war to an end. But in order to restore peace to the world it was not sufficient to repent. We had to obtain God’s pardon through the offering of a great sacrifice.

Before this moment there were many opportunities to end the war. Not a few cities were totally destroyed. But these were not suitable sacrifices; nor did God accept them. Only when Nagasaki was destroyed did God accept the sacrifice. Hearing the cry of the human family, He inspired the emperor to issue the sacred decree by which the war was brought to an end.

Our church of Nagasaki kept the faith during four hundred years of persecution when religion was proscribed and the blood of martyrs flowed freely. During the war this same church never ceased to pray day and night for a lasting peace. Was it not, then, the one unblemished lamb that had to be offered on the altar of God? Thanks to the sacrifice of this lamb many millions who would otherwise have fallen victim to the ravages of war have been saved.

How noble, how splendid was that holocaust of August 9, when flames soared up from the cathedral, dispelling the darkness of war and bringing the light of peace! In the very depth of our grief we reverently saw here something beautiful, something pure, something sublime. Eight thousand people, together with their priests, burning with pure smoke, entered into eternal life. All without exception were good people whom we deeply mourn.

How happy are those people who left this world without knowing the defeat of their country! How happy are the pure lambs who rest in the bosom of God! Compared with them how miserable is the fate of us who have survived! Japan is conquered. Urakami is totally destroyed. A waste of ash and rubble lies before our eyes. We have no houses, no food, no clothes. Our fields are devastated. Only a remnant has survived. In the midst of the ruins we stand in groups of two or three looking blankly at the sky.

Why did we not die with them on that day, at that time, in this house of God? Why must we alone continue this miserable existence?

It is because we are sinners. Ah! Now indeed we are forced to see the enormity of our sins! It is because I have not made expiation for my sins that I am left behind. Those are left who were so deeply rooted in sin that they were not worthy to be offered to God.

We Japanese, a vanquished people, must now walk along a path that is full of pain and suffering. The reparations imposed by the Potsdam Declaration are a heavy burden. But this painful path along which we walk carrying our burden, is it not also the path of hope, which gives to us sinners an opportunity to expiate our sins?

“Blessed are those that mourn for they shall be comforted.” We must walk this way of expiation faithfully and sincerely. And as we walk in hunger and thirst, ridiculed, penalized, scourged, pouring with sweat and covered with blood, let us remember how Jesus Christ carried His cross to the hill of Calvary. He will give us courage

“The Lord has given: the Lord has taken away. Blessed be the name of the Lord!”

Let us give thanks that Nagasaki was chosen for the sacrifice. Let us give thanks that through this sacrifice peace was given to the world and freedom of religion to Japan.

May the souls of the faithful departed, through the mercy of God, rest in peace. Amen.

(From The Bells of Nagasaki by Takashi Nagai, Kodansha International, 1984, pp.106-110)

Dr. Nagai's wife Maria died in that explosion as well.  Shortly after the war ended, he was diagnosed with leukemia.  Here he is with two of his children:

D

Remembering Fr. Downey

Four years ago on this day, Fr. James Downey, OSB died.  He was a Monk of St. Benedict's Abbey in Atchinson, Kansas.  Part of his work was in the Pro-Life movement.

I knew him while I was in residency and fellowship.  He referred to me as his private physician - probably the only person in the world who will ever consider me as that.

The anniversary of his death comes close on the heels of the HHS rule which will make contraceptives mandatory for all health insurance carriers.  The U.S. Catholic bishops have properly voiced their opposition to this law which would make all those compliant to be guilty of mortal sin.  It is ironic, though, that for so many years most priests and bishops have either opposed the Church's teaching on contraception and abortion or have remained silent on the subject, and now they expect the Faithful to join them in their fight against this ruling.  Unfortunately, most poorly formed Catholics see no problem with contraception.  Here is a video which explains it better than I ever could:



Thankfully, Fr. Downey was on the side of Life, and the Magesterium.

Eternal rest grant unto him, and may perpetual light shine upon him. May his soul, and all the souls of the Faithful Departed, through the Mercy of God, rest in peace.

Christmas Sunday Obligation to Attend Mass Abrogated

(Zeeeeenit)  In a move that surprises no one, the United States Conference of Clandestine Catholic Bishops (USCCCB) has determined that since Christmas falls on a Sunday this year, members of the Catholic Church do not have to attend Mass on that day.

For the past several years, the USCCCB has abrogated, or eliminated, the obligation to attend Mass on Holy Days when that Holy Day falls on either a Saturday or a Monday.  In the case of the Feast of the Ascension, or Ascension Thursday, observance of that Holy Day has been moved to the following Sunday in most diocese in the United States.  Some say that the elimination of the obligation to attend Mass on Christmas when it falls on a Sunday is just the next logical step for American Catholics.

Our source for this story, who spoke on the condition of anonymity, stated that this would open up the opportunities for Catholics everywhere to enjoy the day more, without having to get dressed up and leave all the presents behind for a while.

"Christmas is a busy day," our source said, "and there are a lot of things to do that day, like opening presents, watching football games, and going to movies which open on Christmas Day.  Think of the kitchen fires which could be avoided by keeping the whole family home while Christmas dinner is cooking.

"We at the USCCCB are making this decision for the good of the Church; I mean, heaven forbid you should have to go to Church more than once a week!"

We are trying to verify this story.  Due to the immediate ramifications of this pronouncement, we decided to go ahead and publish it beforehand without verification.  The only source we have discovered which refers to this issue is at this website.

The Holy Days of Obligation as observed in the United States are:

• Solemnity of Mary, Mother of God
• Ascension 
• Assumption of the Blessed Virgin Mary 
• All Saints' Day 
• Feast of the Immaculate Conception
• Christmas

For those of you who have read this far, of course this just a joke.  There is no USCCCB as far as I know, and yes, you do have to go to Mass this Sunday.  Merry Christmas!

Politically Charged Time-Out

An old Air Force friend sent me this a while ago.  I just read it, and thought you might like it.  It is called 'Ode to the Welfare State,' and it is best read by clicking on the picture to embiggen it:

Sigh.  Things haven't changed that much.....

Veteran's Day, 2011

It has been eleven years since I separated from the Air Force, and 24 years since I was commissioned as a 2nd Lieutenant in the United States Air Force.  The years have erased a lot of the feelings which I had while on active duty, especially the chafing awareness that I had given up my freedom while serving our country.  Instead, most of the thoughts I have now are how blessed I was to serve in the military.

Here below is a picture from the Summer of 1988, when I got to take an 'incentive flight' in a jet trainer.  More on incentive flights in a moment.  Looking at this picture brings all the memories of that day back to me.  I was scared, especially after being 'briefed' on how to operate the parachute strapped to my back if it did not automatically deploy.  We also were shown how to use the heavy knife to break through the canopy in the event that became necessary.  Then there is that little thing called acraphobia which I have.   I went anyway, and had a wonderful time actually controlling this airplane under the watchful eye of a flying instructor's instructor.

On the flight out of San Antonio, I wished I still had that parachute.

Incentive flights were intended to attract physicians into Aerospace Medicine, which is a lot of primary care medicine combined with occupational medicine.  The flying sounded like fun, and I was really excited to go on this little jaunt above San Antonio, but I couldn't get enthusiastic about doing family practice.  My thoughts turned out to be fairly accurate, as I found out years later how Flight Surgeons would qualify for their flight pay if they were stationed at one of the bases in San Antonio: they would spend their required flying hours in the passenger seats of a C-5 as their pilots practiced a maneuver called a 'touch and go.'  For those of you who don't know, touch and go is where the pilot comes in for a landing, briefly allowing the wheels to 'touch' the runway before roaring back into the air.  That doesn't sound toooo bad, until you realize that the passenger seats in the C-5 are located behind the cockpit - on the top level, above the cargo bay - and they don't usually have all the creature comforts of commercial airliners.  No air conditioned vent blowing on you from above, and no windows.  Oh, and one more thing: usually the seats are all positioned so the passengers all face backward.  So just imagine how comfortable it must be, flying in the low altitude hot air above San Antonio, while facing backwards in sweltering heat and lots of turbulence.

That is why this aircraft was smiling when I took its picture - also in 1988:

I took this picture while standing on the roof of a car we rented from a place in San Antonio called Chuck's Rent-A-Clunker.  I was trying to eliminate all the barbed wire from the photograph.





I was in the Air Force for 13 years: nine years in the Inactive Reserves and four years active duty.  I spent two weeks in El Salvador, anesthetizing children and adults for eye surgery as part of a humanitarian mission.  I was never issued a weapon, although I had to qualify with a 9mm pistol as part of my training for mobilization.  During my last year on active duty, I could not be farther than 50 miles from the base in the event I was deployed at a moment's notice.

A week after I separated from the Air Force, I had a medal delivered to my home.  It was a commemoration for my service to our country.  It got me thinking at the time, that all I ever did was wake up every day and go to work, caring for active duty personnel, retirees, dependents - especially the children - and any trauma victim who landed in our emergency room.  For that, just doing my job, I got a medal.

For some veterans, just doing their job meant a lot more than selecting what uniform to wear today and then battling the early morning traffic to get to the base.  For most, just doing their job meant putting their lives on the line for the good of all of us back home.

Please pray for those who never came back, or for those who came back scarred, damaged, forgotten.  I have heard their cries in military and veteran's hospitals.

Eternal rest grant unto them, oh Lord, and may perpetual light shine upon them.  May their souls, and all the souls of the Faithful Departed, rest in peace.

The Classical Week: Day #1

About a week ago, I attended a Parish Youth Group meeting where the pastor spoke about an experiment using classical music.  In this experiment, Fr. L- claimed, classical music was piped into one chamber, while rock music was played in another chamber.  Connecting these two boxes was a tunnel, and as soon as rock music started playing, all the mice (or was it rats?) would scurry off to the box featuring classical music.  Padre mentioned other experiments, including one where the rock and roll groupies ate one another, but I shall not go into more of that kind of stuff.

What struck my children and I was one experiment where classical music was played as background music.  It had a soothing effect on the people exposed to this music, and made their home a much nicer place to live.  In short, music helped to form the culture of that family in a favorable way.  So last night (Saturday) my children suddenly mentioned that they would like to take part in the experiment - starting the next day.  That would be today.

Carolyn and I were very interested in participating in this experiment.  We have noticed that the children who live at home have developed a hankering for both types of music - Country and Western - and some of it has caused us some concern.  I even started listening to the lyrics and telling the children that some songs are not appropriate for their listening.  Heck, a lot of it is not appropriate for my listening....

Our little unscientific experiment is not about lyrics.  As Father L- said, never mind the lyrics.  A lot of the music is detrimental on a more basic level.  To paraphrase (badly) his thesis, one must consider how Man and Music have parallels in their construction.  For Man, the Intellect informs the Will, which then directs the Body.  This is how one attains an ordered life, where the Body is subject to the direction of the Intellect and Will.  In Music, Melody creates Harmony, which then directs the Rhythm of the piece of music.  This is how one attains an ordered piece of music, where the lower part is subject to the higher parts.  Unfortunately rock music - and even most contemporary country music - put rhythm ahead of melody and harmony, creating disorder.  When Man puts Body before Intellect and Will, an even greater disharmony occurs.

Our experiment will be to see if playing classical music rather than rock or country will help influence our family in a positive way, encouraging all of us to put Melody and Harmony, or Intellect and Will, ahead of Body and Rhythm.

So what's with the aircraft at the top of this blog?  Well, during the Life Chain event at church this afternoon, one of these things flew over.  I had never seen one in the air before, and it stopped me in the middle of an Ave Maria.  I still need a lot of work when an airplane can distract me from my prayers.

For the next week, I shall make some comment on how this little experiment is going.  Stay tuned!

And no, you can't follow me on Twitter!

Modesty @ Mass

Have you ever noticed how well some of our Separated Brethren dress when they attend their Sunday services?

It is time we Catholics follow suit.  Check this out:



Hat tip to The Tucker Bunch at 'Just Another Day in Paradise.'

Thoughts at 113 Degrees

As I drove toward downtown Fort Worth, with the thermometer on the dashboard reaching 113 degrees Fahrenheit, I was reminded of a passage from C.S. Lewis' book Out of the Silent Planet, when an Earth-bound ship passes almost too close to the Sun:

"And still the thermometer rose.  The walls of the ship were too hot to touch.  It was obvious that a crisis was approaching.  In the next few hours it must kill them or get less.

"It got less...."

It will, in December.

My Brother's Father's House

The Finding of the Saviour in the Temple, by William Holman Hunt

Happy Father's Day!



This post is not about Father's Day.

It is about a church.

It is about the church where my older brother is Pastor.

By the way, the opinions expressed in this blog are mine alone, and do not reflect those of anyone known to me.

I cannot read minds, either.

I would have to say that in the process of being reassigned from one parish to another, my brother has left one of the most beautiful churches in the Diocese of Arlington, Virginia for one of the less attractive ones. Fortunately, both churches are full of good people, good parishioners who are devoted to Our Lord and His Church. The physical plant, thankfully does not always reflect the piety of the occupants.

It is ironic that I should visit his church so soon after reviewing a book about churches in the Diocese of Scranton, Pennsylvania. In my review of Framing Faith: A Pictorial History of Communities of Faith, I discussed how most of the churches were modified during the late 1960's or early 1970's, and how those changes seemed to relegate God - in particular, the Tabernacle - to the sideline of attention and honor in each church. I speculated that - perhaps - there may be some association between replacing Man for God as the center of the altar and the subsequent decline and closing of the parishes featured in that book. I know there are a lot of other factors which could explain the closing of churches, but I can't help thinking that there may be something to this little pet peeve of mine.

My review of Framing Faith can be read here. My favorite bizarre picture from the book is featured below. It shows the center of the altar of one of the churches. I added the comments to my copy of the picture:


Can you say wreckovation?

Where to start....in Framing Faith, the architecture of a church is compared with the journey of the faithful from birth to Heaven, starting with the baptismal font in the back of church, leading up the center aisle to the altar, then to the Tabernacle, which represents Heaven on Earth. Rather than following their lead, I shall begin at the altar.

As always, I am using that 21st century version of the box camera: my iPhone. Perhaps next time I shall break out my beloved Pentax K-1000. Here is a shot from the back of the church:

Did I mention that the church used to be a gymnasium? It does not matter much, because one has to work with what one has. I would not want to convert a gym into a church, but if that is what it would take to provide for the parish, that is what I would do. Anyways, the pews are actually individual chairs which are bolted together, and each one has its own little kneeler. In the distance, one can see the altar. The Tabernacle is off to the side, behind the lectern on the right hand side of the altar. Here is a closer shot of the altar.

Note the candle by the Tabernacle on the side of the altar. Also note the centralized seating for the priest and altar servers, including a microphone for the celebrant. The marble edifice behind the priest's seat actually has a gap in it where a crucifix could be placed. In addition, there is a shelf of sorts where the Tabernacle could be positioned in the center of the altar. All one would have to do is remove the seats and voila! - Our Lord is back to the place of greatest honor in church.

Of course, one is distracted from looking at the altar when confronted with this construction upon entering the sanctuary:

Yes. It is a baptismal pool. I showed this picture to a friend, who initially thought it was a stairway to a crypt chapel. Perhaps it is - one which can only be accessed with scuba gear.

My brother dryly observed that what looks like a good idea in the theoretical sense often proves to be difficult to achieve in practical terms. I thought about this baptismal pool after he said that; but my first thought was of something from my youthful days in college.

At that time, I was dating a Baptist girl(I think), and she mentioned the exhilaration of being baptized by immersion at some point in the past. Since she did not mention how old she was at the time of her baptism, I thought I would go ahead and ask her. Of course, I did not couch my words in a way which would encourage ecumenism - or mixed marriages, for that matter:

"So, how old were you when you got dunked?"

End of date. It was all for the good, as I am blessed with Carolyn beyond any measure.

Outside, on the parish grounds, there was a beautiful statue of Our Lady:


Now, compare and contrast the church of Mater Dei in Irving, Texas. This was originally a Korean church of some sorts, even including what looked like a dunk tank of all things off the side of the altar. After renovating it, this is what it looks like. Perhaps one day all of our churches will be brought back to putting Our Lord front and center.

2011: A Year of Anniversaries

22 years ago, on June 5th, 1989, this man in China stepped in front of a column of tanks which were rolling through Tiananmen Square the day after the Chinese government cracked down on protesters. This took a lot of guts to do. Chances are we shall never have to face down a tank in public, but every day we have to fight against the temptation to live our Faith in what is becoming increasingly a pagan world.

Pagan is too nice a word for it; savage might be better. That is the word I used to describe the person or persons who keyed my car last night as it sat on a dark street in one of the more affluent suburbs of North Dallas.

I wasn't thinking of any of these things when I got an e-mail from Wikipedia which reminded me of this incident. Instead, two thoughts came to mind: one is that in the movie Until the End of the World, there is a collection of statues in Tiananmen Square commemorating this incident - even though in real life few Chinese know about the picture, thanks to censorship. The other thought was that there are a plethora of anniversaries which occur during 2011.

I just thought you would want to know, that:

1911: John M. Browning developed the handgun which was the main sidearm for the U.S. military forces until about 1985. It is commonly called the '1911,' and fires the .45 ACP cartridge. At the time, the U.S. Army was looking for a 'self-loading' pistol which used a caliber bullet that had adequate 'stopping power' against the enemy. At the time, our soldiers were fighting guerrillas in the Phillippines who were highly motivated and often hopped on drugs to tolerate a lot of pain in battle, and the .38 caliber, or 9 mm bullets were not as effective as the Long Colt .45 bullets.

Speaking of guerrillas, I recall that as a child, listening to reports of the Vietnam war on the radio, I sincerely believed that we were fighting against an army of gorillas, not people, over there. Of course, I also worried about Fred Flintstone staying on the front porch all night, and George Jetson being crushed by that treadmill, too.



I am hoping, that if I am a good boy, say my prayers, and be a good husband and father to my children, that I might find an M1911 under the Christmas tree this December. I think it would be fitting to get an '11 during '11, don't you?

1964: I was born. I am now 47. People say Carolyn and I look a lot younger than our stated ages. I say it is because Carolyn is beautiful and I am just plain immature.

1976: 35 years ago, on July 4, 1976, we celebrated the Bicentennial of our Country. For those who are confused, that was the celebration of the 200th anniversary of the adoption of the Declaration of Independence. I was at Wright's Lake Camp, a Boy Scout camp somewhere in Michigan on that day, and we had a very solemn celebration of that momentous occasion.

1986: I completed my undergraduate education with a Bachelor of Arts in Chemistry from Eastern Michigan University. My degree was 'of Arts' because I tried to do as much literature, history and other applied pseudosciences as possible in order to have something interesting to say at parties. I was astonished when I saw the B.A. on my diploma. I got it in the mail, because I chose not to attend my graduation. I spent that morning volunteering at the hospital, because that-is-what-one-has-to-do-in-order-to-get-into-medical-school.

I still am rather dull at parties despite the B.A.

1987: I am commissioned a 2nd Lieutenant in the U.S. Air Force Medical Service Corps, and receive a Health Professions Scholarship for medical school. No one issues me an M1911.

1989: One adventurous young woman named Carolyn says 'I do,' and thus begin the happiest years of my life. We become itinerant student/doctor types, leaving behind a series of dead lawns as we made our way from Ann Arbor, to Detroit, back to Ann Arbor, then San Antonio, then Dallas, and finally, Fort Worth, Texas. Along the way, we increased the population of Irish in the world, and continue to strive to bring forth more of what Rudyard Kipling called that

"profoundly lovable race that fight like fiends, argue like children, reason like women, obey like men, and jest like their own goblins of the wrath through rebellion, loyalty, want, woe, or war."


1991: Wearing a rented gown, and sweating profusely, I received my medical degree in a sweltering, non air-conditioned auditorium in Michigan. In the balcony above, where it is hotter, Carolyn cheers for me and pats her six month pregnant belly. I can't tell you what day I graduated from medical school, because it took me a month to determine that in order to get a medical license in Texas. I figure it was kept such a secret that even I didn't know, and so you should be kept ignorant as well.

On July 1, 1991, our second anniversary, the first day of my internship, I discover at 5 p.m. that I am on call. So much for a dinner date with Carolyn. I am informed of my call when I am handed a pager which starts beeping - and doesn't stop for the next 12 hours.

1996: I complete my post-graduate training in Anesthesiology, with a Fellowship in Pediatric Anesthesiology. At this point, the gypsies steal me away to the Air Force to serve my time commitment. I spend time in Alabama being re-educated about how to act like an Air Force Officer, and Carolyn gets ready to move herself and 6 children - including a 2 month old baby - down to San Antonio.

1996: Fifteen years living in Texas. I recall those early days, when I started something we called the 'Donahue Death March,' where I would come home from work and get everybody to go out for a walk in the late afternoon heat of San Antonio. I don't know what possessed me to do such a crazy thing. I guess it was one way to get us acclimated to the Texas heat.

1996: I pass my boards on the first try. Since I was certified before the year 2000, I did not need to recertify after ten years, but I did so anyways in 2009. With the way things are going, I figured it would be better to get it done now and deal with regulations in 2019 when I get to that point in time.

2000: On a hot July morning, I walked away from the Air Force. It was an amicable separation, with me getting out without any commitment, they got their airplanes back, and I could go and see them anytime I wanted. It doesn't seem like eleven years. Seriously, serving my country was an honor and truly a privilege, and I shall always look upon my time with the Air Force as a blessing to me and my family.

2006: This blog started as a way for me to comment on the Roman Sacristan's blog. I sort of backed into having a blog, and now it is five years old. I am blessed to have an opportunity to fill the blogosphere with my opinions, self-aggrandizing posts, and milestones in our life in Texas.

As for the Roman Sacristan, he is in a monastery in Italy, which is what he prayed for for so long. Please remember him in your prayers. God bless.

Catholic Urban Legends, Part II: Evil Nuns

This is the second installment of this occasionally repeating topic.

I am sure we have all heard about how evil nuns are. But has anyone ever met someone who was actually beaten or struck by a nun?

I have asked a lot of people if they know of any specific incidents involving a nun meting out corporal punishment. Usually, the person making the allegation has to back off from their statement. In fact, I have not had anyone ever own up to witnessing such an act. I have seen a teacher strike a student, but that was in Switzerland, in 1972 or 1973, IN A PUBLIC SCHOOL. So I open up this question to the three of you who religiously follow this blog (those from Banco, Virginia, Mountain View, California, and 'United States') to please report if you have evidence to support the belief that nuns are evil. Let us see if we can resolve this Catholic Urban Legend once and for all.

Related to this, please Complain to Barnes and Noble about this issue:

What got me onto this subject of nuns was a series of toys I saw displayed at our local Barnes and Noble store. Here they are. I looked for toys which mocked our Jewish or Muslim brethren, but they were not around. I wonder what would happen if any of these toys made fun of Islam. I suspect the inventor or manufacturer would find himself carted off to sensitivity training - or worse:




Similar the 'Roman Sacristan' game of olden days. I actually thought these were funny at first, but then I read the outside packaging, talking about this was a way to make up for those 'wasted hours' on Sunday.

Then there is this game, which sounds like one to replace those little 'footballs' people used to make out of notebook paper:


Nun-Chuks. Another reference to corporal punishment, I guess.


Please contact Barnes and Noble to complain about this Anti-Catholic garbage.

To The Mothers At Mass

Last Tuesday, we took the children to morning Mass at Mater Dei Catholic Church in Irving, Texas. During Mass, I noticed that there were a lot of little children present; it was hard to ignore the sounds of crying, kicking the pews, and playing with books which all but drowned out the words of the priest and the responses of the sacristan. Rather than finding it irritating, I thought it was refreshing to hear so many children. Their contributions to the Holy Sacrifice of the Mass, while officially unapproved, are the greatest indicator that a church is growing –literally – with parishioners who are open to life and are bringing their little ones to Mass.

It occurred to me that others may not welcome the noise of little children as much as I do, and that they may have criticized the mothers afterwards. It is usually the mothers who bring their children to Mass. I have a special place in my heart for mothers who bring their children to Mass, because that is what Carolyn has done for so many years. She has been scolded, even run out of some churches, because of the noise of our far-from-perfect children. The occasional words of encouragement she received were a tremendous consolation to her.

Since I did not have a chance to thank the mothers and encourage them to keep bringing their children to Mass, I sat down and wrote this letter to them instead.



To the Mothers Who Brought the Noisy Children to Mass on Tuesday:

Thank you for taking the time to bring your children to weekday Mass. I am not being sarcastic when I say this. You are doing the greatest service to yourself, your children, your husband, other parishioners, and priests. In short, you are strengthening the Body of Christ when you bring your little toddlers and infants - and older children as well - in to the presence of Our Lord.

For some of us, your presence is a reminder of how it used to be when our children were the ones making the noise in the back of church. I still can remember the times each of my children has charged the altar in the middle of the Consecration, trying to reach the priest before being captured by Mom or Dad. Now, most of my toddlers are taller than me, but we still have a few young children who like to add to the general disorder of weekday Mass.

But back to you and your children at Mass. For yourself, you are receiving the greatest support and consolation when you come to Mass. Your role as wife and mother is a constant challenge to 'die to self' for the benefit of children who show little or no appreciation for your work. Sadly, the world also looks down upon the vocation you have chosen. It is here, in front of the Blessed Sacrament, that you can receive what is most important for the work that God has called you.

Your children are seeing the best example that a parent can give of what is most important: living a life of Faith; in particular, one which is centered on the Holy Sacrifice of the Mass. Every day that you set aside time from your hectic schedule to come to church is another lesson for the children that Mass should be a focus of their life rather than a one-hour Sunday obligation which has to be fulfilled in order to get on to other things in life. On the practical side, consider that weekday Mass teaches the children how to behave on Sunday, when Mass is usually longer. It also really helps if your husband can make it to weekday Mass with the whole family as well. Children need to see that this is important to Dad as well as Mom.

For husbands, if they cannot make it to daily Mass with the family, they can still reap the benefits of your attendance. First, they benefit from your prayers offered up, including prayers you have for your husband in particular. Second, by strengthening your faith, you strengthen the whole family. It is the woman who is the heart and soul of the family, and the rest of the family will gravitate toward whatever level of devotion and piety she sets. Your husband has entrusted you with the children which are the fruit of your love, and it is a tremendous joy for him to know that you are bringing them to Our Lord in the course of your daily activities.

Parishioners will benefit from your children being at Mass because your children are our future. Specifically, most of the priests and religious who will be ordained in twenty to thirty years from now are presently screaming in church, being carried out of the sanctuary yelling "No! No! NO!" or loading their diapers while pretending to sleep in their mother's or father's arms. It would be good for the folks who are distracted by children to consider that these little people will one day be the priests, doctors, nurses and lawyers who will be taking care of them in their old age. I think they would want those folks to be good, faithful Catholics.

Last of all, priests can grow in the virtue of patience while dealing with your noisy children. I don't know who said it originally, but there are times when a religious has to set aside his prayers and perform some act of corporal mercy for someone else. One might equate ignoring a fidgeting toddler with the porter of a monastery having to leave vespers to answer the doorbell. That is just part of being a parish priests, whether one is a diocesan priest or in an order.

So please keep bringing your children to Mass during the week. You need it, even though every ounce of your fallen nature is telling you otherwise. The rest of us need it as well, whether we admit it or not.

Sincerely,

Dadwithnoisykids

P.S., that drawing at the top of this letter was us in 1998!

Doing a Body Good

"The meeting between ignorance and knowledge, between brutality and culture - it begins in the dignity with which we treat our dead"

- Frank Herbert






A lot has been said about what happened to Osama bin Laden, and how he was interred at sea according to Muslim observances. Actually, he was not interred, since that word means to be buried 'in terra,' or in the ground. Anyways, some folks seem to think that the U.S. forces should have done more things, perhaps been a little disrespectful with his corpse. At a minimum, some folks are objecting to our respectful observance of Islamic customs in disposing of his remains.

I would disagree with this idea, and it took me a while to come up with a good explanation for why we should have treated this terrorist's body with respect.

I recalled some instances in the past where the bodies of Americans were desecrated and shown on TV and the internet. The most memorable - and disturbing - example I could think of were the images of our dead servicemen being dragged through the streets of Somalia after their failed mission back in October, 1993. The picture above is of the crew of Super 6-4, the second Black Hawk helicopter shot down in that fight. The only survivor in that picture is the man on the right, Mike Durant. Chances are the photographs of American servicemen being mangled and mistreated were those of the others standing in front of the helicopter.

In Mark Bowden's book, Black Hawk Down, he relates how some Somalians came across the mobs abusing the bodies of our servicemen; one of the witnesses of this, Bashir Haji Yusuf, relates how he wanted to stop the crowd, but couldn't:

"They had a dead American soldier draped over a wheelbarrow....the man's face looked peaceful, distant....[p]eople spat and kicked at the body.

"Bashir followed, appalled. This is terrible. Islam called for reverential treatment and immediate burial of the dead, not this grotesque display. Bashir wanted to stop them, but the crowd was wild."

Some Saudi Arabian soldiers, attached to the UN forces, also confronted a mob which was abusing the body of a dead soldier. They asked them,

"If he is dead, why are you doing this? Aren't you a human being?"

They were warned that if they did not move on, they would also be shot.

Of course, our own Faith demands respect for the body, as mentioned in St. Paul's first letter to the Corinthians:

"Or know you not, that your members are the temple of the Holy Ghost who is in you, whom you have from God; and you are not your own?
For you are bought with a great priced. Glorify and bear God in your body."
- 1 Corinthians 6:19-20

So I think our military was right to bury the body of Osama bin Laden in accordance with his religion, in the proper manner. Unlike the mobs in Somalia, and other places where our troops have fallen and have been desecrated, there will be no pictures around to incite outrage because we did not show this man, even this man, the respect due to any human body.

Parenting Tips From My Son

Happy Feast of St. Louis-Marie de Monfort! One of my favorite saints and author of many books on the Blessed Mother.





A picture of the Still-At-Home Donahue Children:



And now some advice from Max, my eight year old son:

"May Almighty God bless you, in the Name of the Father, and of the Son, and of the Holy Spirit. Amen. Good night, Princess." With these words, I said good night to Zelie, my youngest daughter, making the sign of the Cross on her forehead.

As she walked to her room, my eight year old son emerged from my room, shaking his head, "Oh no, Dad, you are spoiling your children."

"How is that, son," I asked.

"You are supposed to make them work more, and instead you don't, Dad. That is how come your children are spoiled."

"What should I do to make my children less spoiled, son? How could I start with you to make you and the rest of the children less spoiled? Tell me, Max."

"Oh no, Dad. Don't start with me. Start with Zelie."



Note that the instruction manual for our chainsaw recommends that it be 'For Occasional Use Only.' No need to overdo it, folks.

References, Please, Al

If you look closely at the picture below, you will notice that the fence has a bunch of buzzards sitting on it. Buzzards don't fly well in the cold; I almost hit another one this morning:


I saw this note on the Drudge Report about how Al Gore explained that the massive storm was caused by Global Warming. Here is the quoted response to Bill O'Reilly's question, "Why has southern New York turned into the tundra?"

An Answer for Bill February 1, 2011 : 11:43 AM

Last week on his show Bill O’Reilly asked, “Why has southern New York turned into the tundra?” and then said he had a call into me. I appreciate the question.

As it turns out, the scientific community has been addressing this particular question for some time now and they say that increased heavy snowfalls are completely consistent with what they have been predicting as a consequence of man-made global warming:

“In fact, scientists have been warning for at least two decades that global warming could make snowstorms more severe. Snow has two simple ingredients: cold and moisture. Warmer air collects moisture like a sponge until it hits a patch of cold air. When temperatures dip below freezing, a lot of moisture creates a lot of snow.”

“A rise in global temperature can create all sorts of havoc, ranging from hotter dry spells to colder winters, along with increasingly violent storms, flooding, forest fires and loss of endangered species.”


Okay, then. So I supposed that the underlined words above, "man-made global warming," would take me to a list of references which would knock my socks off with support for Mr. Gore's allegation that global warming is the explanation for why I am freezing my backside off in Dallas. Instead, I was directed to an editorial, which also did not cite any references. The editorial was from a Chicago paper.

To misquote St. Bartholomew, "Can anything good come out of Chicago?"

I was really hoping on learning something about global warming from the man who has made a fortune preaching on the dangers of it. Instead, I find myself confronted with a bit of college humor born out of late nights in chemistry labs. When presenting data which was unsupportable, or suspicious, it was often referred to as 'POOMA,' which in its best description was translated into 'PULLED OUT OF MID-AIR.' More often it was known as 'pulled out of my armpit,' or some other anatomical region which begins with the letter 'A.' I shall give our former vice president the benefit of the doubt, and hope that he pulled the support for his argument out of mid-air.

In this case, some very cold air.

ADDENDUM:

This is what inspired me to write the above. I was up all night on call, and after taking just under 2 hours to drive home on icy roads, I took a nap. When I awoke, I discovered that our hot water was not working. That is because we have 'tankless' water heaters which are attached to the outside of the house, and the water had frozen in the pipes leading to the heaters. We have two heaters; one on the East and one on the West side of the house. Last winter, when this happened, we thawed the pipes with a hairdryer. This year it is colder, with strong winds pushing the temperature into the single digits.

I mobilized my children to help me bring back the hot water. I would put up pictures of what we made, but our internet connection is being bad right now. I took a radiant heater, bought at Costco, and placed it by the tankless heater, and then the children and I constructed a windbreak to keep some warm air around the heater for a short time. Eventually the pipes thawed and we are back in business with hot water.

The problem: A tankless water heater exposed to the elements. This is the one on the East side of the house.


The heat source. This will warm anyones toes - and water pipes:



The solution. A windbreak constructed around the water heater, allowing warmed air and pipes to out of the wind. When we made this, the wind was really blowing strongly out of the North. Brrrrrr:


Many thanks to my children who helped make this work!

What Did The Pope Really Say?

A confluence of events prompt this note.

First, I recently was 'friended' on facebook by Fr. John T. Zuhlsdorf, author of the blog site What Does The Prayer Really Say?

Second, I just got around to reading an article from the February 2010 edition of the Linacre Quarterly which discussed some comments Pope Benedict XVI made to the press while traveling to Africa in March, 2009. If you recall, Pope Benedict asserted that behavioral changes, such as abstinence and monogamy, were far superior to other means in reducing the incidence of HIV/AIDS, etc. The article in question - see the abstract HERE - supports the Pope's argument by referring to a host of peer-reviewed articles which essentially agree with what he said: staying out of the rain keeps you dryer longer than wearing a raincoat while playing in mud puddles in the middle of a thunderstorm.

Take that metaphor and meditate on it.

Third, I glanced at the latest edition of The Wanderer(June 17, 2010) and saw the following title of an article: "Benedict XVI Affirms That The World Needs The Cross."

Fourth, I saw a video on YouTube of a mama deer taking out a dog and a cat which were too close to little Bambi.

I started thinking how the world - and the news media in particular - often misunderstands what the Church in general and the Holy Father in particular are saying. I thought about how the news media and popular opinion ignored what the Holy Father said about HIV/AIDS in Africa, and how he was criticized by the public. I thought a bit more, and naturally I saw some humor in this topic and came up with a new, mainstream media headline to replace the Wanderer's example above. Finally, I thought of a play on the words of Fr. Zuhlsdorf's blog to come up with the title of this blog entry.

So here are some of the titles of articles from The Wanderer(June 17, 2010) as interpreted by the mainstream media. The actual titles will follow in parentheses:






Pope Wants Us To Suffer
He's Only Happy When We're Unhappy

(Benedict XVI Affirms That The World Needs The Cross)




Pope Finally Visits Cyprus
2,000 Years Too Late For Some

(Translation of general audience given June 9 where Pope Benedict XVI reflected on his trip to Cyprus)





Pope Wants Bridge to Cyprus
Going East and West

(Pope Benedict XVI Calls Church in Cyprus A "Bridge Between East and West")






That does it for last week's edition of The Wanderer. Perhaps if I get ambitious I shall look for real examples of bad media coverage of the Holy Father and the Vatican.

By the way the Fourth Fact is not really relevant to this discussion, but is brought up to remind all people that deer are not gentle critters when they feel threatened.

Actions Have Consequences

I have had several online conversations with some young people about certain things posted on websites such as facebook. These conversations typically start with me reading something objectionable, such as foul language. Rather than ignoring the words, I have written to the person requesting that they desist from posting such offensive material.

The typical response from youth is to 'mind my own business' and 'I'm an adult now,' etc. I have commented in my replies that one day they may regret what they have done because it will come back to haunt them. Anything put on the Internet is available for retrieval.

That brings me to this little video, but I think the end result will be beneficial to this singer rather than detrimental. Back in 1978, a Mr. Hill(the English translation of his name) sang this song on Russian TV. Apparently this song means something to someone, and this style of singing is actually a real singing style. I don't know. All I know is that this music is different, unique. Now, 32 years after the fact, the video of Mr. Hill singing has come back to even greater popularity on YouTube, with an international audience now able to appreciate his particular talent. I predict that he will see a resurgence in his career.

Consider that even this music is more pleasing to God than vulgar and offensive language ever would be.

I Repeat A Joke I Heard

I live in Dallas, Texas, and recently asked my friends' little girl what she wants to be when she grows up. She said she wanted to be President some day. Both of her parents, liberal Democrats, were standing there, so I asked her, 'If you were President what would be the first thing you would do?'

She replied, 'I'd give food and houses to all the homeless people.' Her parents beamed with pride.

'Wow...what a worthy goal,' I told her, 'But you don't have to wait until you're President to do that. You can come over to my house and mow the lawn, pull weeds, and sweep my yard, and I'll pay you $50. Then I'll take you over to the grocery store where the homeless guy hangs out, and you can give him the $50 to use toward food and a new house.'

She thought that over for a few seconds, then she looked me straight in the eye and asked, 'Why doesn't the homeless guy come over and do the work, and you can just pay him the $50?'

I said, 'Welcome to the Republican Party.' Her parents still aren't speaking to me.


True. True.

North Texas Saturday Scenes

Another reason to thank God: Diaper manufacturers have stopped putting cute pictures on the back of the diaper. This means that I won't be putting diapers on backwards in the middle of the night

Today we are celebrating Benedict's birthday; it is next week, but there are other things going on that day. Ben wanted ribs, so I have been cooking them 'low and slow' on the grill.

Better get extra dental floss.

Here is a YouTube website which I find inspirational when trying to think of new ways to grill. These guys really love bacon:



This young man likes grapes:

Here are flowers for Carolyn; those in the foreground are from our fields, while the ones in the back are from a florist. Which do you suppose she likes more?


Another variety of flowers from our property:

There is a conspiracy in the Airsoft industry. They are determined to get an airsoft gun in the hands of every red-blooded American. This one was less than $20. It shoots well, too.


Speaking of guns, I can't get this song out of my head:



I like guns, and I love Carolyn and my children.

Somehow those two things are inter-related.

I hope to shoot an AK-47 someday.

Flowers

Yesterday afternoon, after much weeping and gnashing of teeth, we got
all three tractors up and running. I was surprised that all three
started up so well, seeing as how neglect was the main way that they
were prepared for the inactivity of winter.

The resurrection of the dormant tractors coincided with the start of a
fine drizzle, which progressed to heavy rain by sunset. That ended any
plans I had for mowing the lawn. That was all right, because there is
always something else to be done on our property. The children and I
spent time hauling downed tree branches to the site of last year's
bonfire. It was a big job; many trees on the property still need to be
trimmed of dead branches. Dead tree limbs pose a real threat to the the children. In my practice, I have cared for several patients who had been injured by falling tree branches. One woman actually had a limb penetrate her skull.

But enough of my morbid medical stories.

If you look carefully at the picture above, one can see the pile of wood in the distance. Now it is larger, and obscures more of the distant house behind it.

Here is a video from last week, which shows how beautiful Spring is in North Texas, and some of the children working or playing in the back yard:



Springtime in North Texas is heralded by the blossoming of flowers, especially the Bluebonnet, which is the State Flower of Texas. I believe it is illegal to mow areas where the Bluebonnet is in bloom. Another floral rule or tradition of this season is to force little children to get photographed in Bluebonnet fields - regardless of where said fields are. It is not uncommon to see dozens of cars pulled off along the interstate to take advantage of the flowers blooming along the embankments.

Thankfully, we do not have Bluebonnets, but we do have these little flowers all over the property, which are just as beautiful and smell nice. One of the things I like about them is that they follow the sun throughout the day. In the morning, they lean towards the East, and by the end of the day they are facing the West. When I picked these flowers, they were turned toward what would have been the setting sun.


Another great thing about having so many flowers around is that the children can pick them any time to give to their mother. Even husbands can pick them, especially if they have to make amends for thoughtless infractions they may have incurred.

In one way, these floral arrangements are far more beautiful than those purchased at a flower shop, but I suspect women still love to get roses whenever possible.