Bar kicks out Catholic group for being "too controversial"

I've just learned that Denver's version of "Theology on Tap" has been banned from a bar not far from the Cathedral of the Immaculate Conception downtown for being "too controversial."

Bishop James Conley, a friend of mine, spoke to about 300 people in a closed-off room at Stoney’s Bar and Grill on the topic “Atheocracy and the Battle for Religious Liberty in America.” I'm sure it addressed the Obama administration's attempts to force Catholic businesses to pay for insurance coverage of contraception and sterilization - both of which the Catholic Church has long opposed.

Apparently, at least one patron shouted profanities at Conley and the group, even though he was not in the group listening to Conley's presentation ---- and likely never heard a word of it from where he was sitting.

It strikes me as a reflection of the rising hostility the Church faces for standing behind long-held beliefs.

"BC" on EWTN's "Life on the Rock"

Bishop James Conley of Denver (whom countless friends refer to as "BC") is featured in this episode of EWTN's "Life on the Rock."

Conley is the auxiliary bishop of the archdiocese of Denver. I've known him for 20 years or so, when he was a priest in the Wichita diocese.



You'll find Bishop Conley at the 18th minute. I was blessed to go on a pilgrimage with then-Fr. Conley to Rome in 1994 - the year after World Youth Day was held in Denver. Conley invited me to go along because it was a large group of mostly women who had no experience of traveling in Europe. I had been to Europe before, and he knew that.

Everything fell quickly into place for me to be able to go, so I did. It was a marvelous experience. I'll share more from that trip in future blog posts. But it sounds like Bishop Conley celebrated daily "pilgrimage Masses" in Spain --- just as he did each morning of our pilgrimage in Rome. It added such depth and meaning to our journey, our experiences....

Rocco Palmo talks about why he started the blog "Whispers in the Loggia"

Who, you may ask, is Rocco Palmo? It's a fair question, and one I asked myself when the media liaison for the U.S. Conference of Catholic Bishops suggested I talk to him for a story I was working on a story earlier this year about why so many priests from the Wichita diocese have been named bishops in recent years.

Palmo has a blog called Whispers in the Loggia, which takes a look at developments and issues within the Catholic Church. He was, indeed, a fascinating interview for my story. Trusted friends in the Church have told me some regard his blog as glorified gossip, and thus should be approached guardedly. But I still found it telling that the USCCB official respected Palmo and his blog enough to point me to them.

This television interview offers a glimpse of Palmo's personality and motivations for launching the blog. Watching it reminded me of my lengthy interview (and fact-checking call after the story was written). He's passionate and articulate about the Church and being Catholic, and for that I'll tip my hat.

This is a wait I don't mind......much

There was a long line waiting outside the confessional when I arrived at church Saturday afternoon, at about 3:20 p.m. I wanted to go to confession, too, so I took my place at the back of the line.

There were at least a half-dozen people in front of me, and I knew that it could be a close call to get in before it was time for Mass. Some people take only a few minutes for confession....others can take a half hour.

Confession is difficult for most non-Catholics to understand, let alone appreciate. Many Catholics also struggle with this sacrament, mortified at the thought of confessing their sins to a priest --- a priest who likely knows them if they are regular Mass participants.

But I have found frequent confessions to be an integral part of not just practicing my faith, but living my life well. There is something indisputably cleansing and healing about an honest, heartfelt act of confession, and the graces that come from it easily outweigh any human hesitancy about partaking.

I have heard critics say they don't need a priest inside a box to forgive their sins; they can just speak directly to God and get it that way. And while I always encourage people to foster a personal relationship with God, and to talk to Him regularly --- and, yes, asked for His forgiveness while at home or driving or just about my day-to-day affairs --- there's no substitute for the actual sacrament. I'm no theologian, so I can't give a definitive explanation as to why, but I imagine has to do with the fact that the sacrament itself brings special graces because it is a gift bestowed by Christ to his flock via the priest (and articulated in the New Testament).

It's not the confessional itself, because I've known priests who heard confessions at campgrounds, at music festivals, even inside a popular Wichita bar one night (a woman discovered that a priest was with our group after a wedding, and asked if he would hear her confession....he naturally agreed).

I know I'm at my best as a person when I'm able to make it to confession regularly. And that's why I wasn't too upset when I saw so many people in that line on Saturday. If it means so much to me, I can only hope it enriches them as well.

I've heard it said an important measure of a parish's spiritual health is how long the lines are for confession ---- the longer the better. It means the flock is partaking of the sacraments. And I've always thought of confession as a vital one for a person's spiritual and emotional health.

Yes, as the afternoon melted away and the line barely budged as Mass time neared, I fretted periodically that I would not make it in time. If someone's in there for a long time, I figure they really needed it.

I know I have been in there for lengthy spells, often because the priest is discussing something he wanted to ask me -- or because he simply wanted to hear how I've been. After one longer-than-I-realized chat, an elderly woman in line touched my arm and said, "We were getting worried about you." I couldn't help but chuckle.

One particular confession Saturday took more than 15 minutes, and I was resigned to not making it before Mass started. But, with about five minutes to spare, I was able to step inside. There were two others behind me, so I was efficient. No matter how fast or slow you go, however, it has to be honest and genuinely heartfelt, or it won't matter.

To the priest's credit, he waited and heard their confessions, too - even though it meant Mass started a bit late. I'm sure anyone there who has stood at the back of a long line for confession wasn't particularly trouble by that.

In fact, I was grateful he started Mass late, for the sake of those at the end of the line.

8,000 pages

Here are a few photos of the crate of papers documenting the case for canonization for Fr. Emil Kapaun, taken at the "closing Mass" for the diocesan portion of the investigation.

It was so hot during the Mass at the Cathedral of the Immaculate Conception that it wasn't easy to get the wax to cool enough to imprint the seal. I'm glad I didn't wear my black suit!

Why It's Important for the Wichita Eagle to run the stories on Fr. Emil Kapaun

I've been reading a lot of criticism of the Eagle recently for its decision to run stories about the review process currently under way to determine whether Father Emil Kapaun (he pronounced it Ka-PAWN) is worthy of being declared a saint by the Catholic Church.

Kapaun was born on a farm outside Pilsen in Marion County and was ordained a priest for the Diocese of Wichita. He went on to serve as an Army chaplain in both World War II and the Korean War. It was for his fearless yet humble exploits in the Korean War - in combat and later in a prisoner-of-war camp - that Kapaun is best remembered.

I won't go into those acts of bravery, courage, selflessness and unyielding faith here. You can read Roy Wenzl's stories on the Eagle's website, and draw your own conclusions.

Critics have accused the Eagle of promoting Kapaun's cause, of being an adjunct of the Catholic Church. But they miss the point of the stories entirely. Only two people born in America have ever been declared saints by the Catholic Church (a Native American, Kateri Tekakwitha, who died in 1680, was declared a saint in 1980).

The Church's process for canonization is incredibly thorough and time-consuming --- and for good reason. By declaring someone a saint, the Church is stating that the person is unquestionably in Heaven, and worthy of the highest honor the Church on earth can bestow.

Kapaun has already been declared a "Servant of God" by the Church, and before he can be declared "Blessed" (one step below sainthood) a miracle must be verified. Another miracle must then occur (a healing, for instance, in which no earthly explanation for it can be found) for the candidate to be canonized).

In Kapaun's case, three alleged miracles have occurred - in Kansas, no less - and their "cases" are so strong they are being submitted to the Vatican for consideration. The Vatican official overseeing the gathering of documentation has stated each of the alleged miracles is compelling.

Though it took a lot of time and effort on Roy's part, he was finally able to convince all three families to share their stories of the incidents and healings that comprise the alleged miracles. To not tell those stories would be akin to saying a soldier was being considered for the Medal of Honor but not detailing the incident that prompted the consideration.

That would be an injustice to readers everywhere --- not just Eagle subscribers.

Kapaun's story is of a simple Kansas farm boy who yearned to be a priest and from his humble origins went on to live a life that continues to deeply move countless people more than a half-century after his death.

It's a story that should inspire people of all walks of faith, no matter where they live, because it demonstrates how even those with the most ordinary of backgrounds can make a profound difference in the world by how they live their life.

That has a universal resonance to it, and is yet another reason Kapaun's story deserves ---- no, needs ---- to be told.

How Do I Learn God's Will for my Life?

It's a natural question for those who believe in God and want to live a life consistent with His teachings. I know I consistently seek God's will for my life. Not just my vocation, but His will in almost every choice of consequence.

No....not what to have for lunch. Or whether I should go to bed at 10 or 11.

But I have sought His will on whether to pursue writing opportunities or whether to pursue certain relationships (or end them); and, of course, whether to take various jobs that presented themselves. To me, it's a natural extension - nay, a fundamental part - of living a faith-centered life.

It's not political (no matter what some talking heads may say), nor is it an afterthought. It's part and parcel of my decision-making process. I came across this blogpost on how to discern God's will while coming to a decision or while enduring challenges in life. It is compelling reading, so I thought I would share it.

I guess I'll have to do the laundry after all

Well, 6 p.m. came and went Saturday, and the world didn't end. We were told (breathlessly by some) that the Rapture would occur then, according to calculations made by someone using clues found in the Bible.

Sigh.

Pronouncements of this sort annoy me more than anything else. The Bible itself states we will not know the date nor the hour of Christ's Second Coming. Not even Jesus knows that, we're told. Only God does.

The Bible also states that we will be going about our daily business, getting hired or fired, getting married or buried, right up until the moment arrives. Expect no dramatic "signs" foretelling Christ's return.

Which explains the Catholic Church's advice on "the end of the world:" Treat every day as if it's when Jesus will return. Live your life as if you'll be ready for that moment --- even if it's in 10 minutes.

There's a lot of wisdom in that mentality. If you live in such a way that you'll be welcomed into Heaven by Christ, you do not have to live in fear. Granted, God is the ultimate judge of who gets to Heaven, but He is a merciful, loving Father eager to welcome His children home.

And we, as flawed humans, can merely strive to be our best selves as much as we can.

Given that, I don't get caught up in the histrionics linked to proclamations that the Rapture is imminent or that the world as we know it will end in 2012.

I read that the mastermind who declared Saturday would bring the Rapture has disappeared, stunning his flock of devotees. I'm stunned, I tell ya. Stunned.

A touching perspective on Pope John Paul II's final days

Holy Week

"Do you think that I cannot call upon my Father and he will not provide me at this moment with more than twelve legions of angels? But then how would the Scriptures be fulfilled which say that it must come to pass in this way?" Matthew, 26: 53-55

Holy Week is the most significant seven days in the Catholic liturgical calendar. It opens with Palm Sunday, depicting Jesus' humble yet triumphant arrival into Jerusalem; moves to the Last Supper, His betrayal and arrest, and ultimately His crucifixion on Good Friday and resurrection on Easter.

I struggled mightily with the scriptural stories of Jesus' crucifixion as a child, knowing an innocent man was being put to death. Part of me still recoils to this day, feeling the pain of seeing Divine who became Man treated so brutally and then killed.

That's why the above passage from Matthew is so important to me. It's a reminder that it had to be this way, that this is why God became Man - to rescue us from the bondage of sin, of slavery to Satan in a sense.

He suffered and died for our sins........for my sins.......for the sins of all who lived before me and all who will come after me - until He returns in glory. My sins helped put Jesus on the cross. My sins added to His suffering. It's humbling to recognize...humbling to the point of silence. And it makes what Jesus did on that devastatingly painful Friday all the more powerful.

A few days in England

Compelling column by a friend of mine about Pope Benedict XVI's visit to England:

http://www.archden.org/index.cfm/ID/4530

And now, a joke

This joke is in honor of the feast day of St. Francis of Assisi, whom the Catholic Church long ago declared the Patron of Animals.

I've been to Assisi, in the mountains of Italy, and the sense of peace there is palpable. It's remarkable.

28 Steps

We had been in Rome for several days by the time we reached the seemingly inauspicious building next to the Basilica of St. John Lateran in Rome.

Fr. Conley, the guide for our pilgrimage (he's a bishop now, based in Denver), told us the building held the holy staircase, the Scala Santa, that Jesus reputedly climbed on his way to trial before Pontius Pilate in Rome. He told us it was a tradition for pilgrims in Rome to climb those stairs one at a time on our knees, saying a prayer on each step.

There were more than 20 of us on the pilgrimage, and most of us quickly agreed to climb those stairs on our knees. It can't be that bad, I thought.

And the first few steps weren't. But then the stairs, worn to the consistency of a roiling sea by centuries of foot steps, began biting into my knees. Marble just doesn't give much, and it kept finding nerves I didn't even know I had. At least, I think it was marble. Bishop Conley tells me the stairs were covered with wood even then...but I didn't think wood undulated that much from wear. No matter what we were kneeling on, every step became painful.

Skin began to burn as I slowly, carefully climbed. I tried to scoot up on the stairs to shift the "landing point" to spots that didn't hurt so much. But the steps gnawed on my shins. My prayers were filled with pain -- and I wasn't even halfway to the top.

Yet what I was feeling was a faint echo of what the man who climbed these same stairs on His way to being crucified ultimately endured. And that's what kept me going. By the time I reached the top, my knees were bloody. My shins felt like notches had been carved into the bone.

For months after that, it was quite painful to kneel. To this day, 15 years later, I can't kneel without thinking of that journey up the Scala Santa --- and by extension, Jesus' Passion.

When Mel Gibson's "Passion of the Christ" came out, Protestant ministers admitted to me they focus on Easter and bypass Good Friday because the crucifixion isn't pleasant for their flocks to reflect upon. My brother recently told me the parish council at St. Vincent de Paul Catholic parish in Andover chose a crucifix for its new church that only has a faint hologram of Christ because they feared having a crucified Jesus up there would scare children.

But they're missing the fact that Christ knew full well His Passion was a fundamental piece of His mission. He warned His apostles repeatedly of it.

His suffering and death served as ransom for the souls of all mankind. If that seems challenging to grasp, ponder this: He knows what it's like to be wrongly accused and to suffer for it. He knows what it's like when we wonder if God has abandoned...or is ignoring....us. After all, He asked from the cross, "My God, my God, why have you forsaken me?"

He knows what it's like when we're facing difficult times and we're tempted to find a way to not drink that "cup." He's been there, too, in the Garden of Gethsemane.

His excruciating journey to and death on Calvary should serve as an invitation to turn to Him in difficult times...because He understands. I suspect that could resonate with even non-Christians.
While Christ's resurrection is the culmination -- and the ultimate purpose -- of His ministry, I'm convinced His Passion is a core part of His message: "This is how much I love you."

We deprive ourselves of something profound and powerful if we ignore it.