Justin Trudeau is the new commissioner for Canada's Thought Police

    
     Liberal Party leader Justin Trudeau recently took over the undisputed leadership of Canada's thought police when he brought forth his pompous edict stating that only pro-abortionists need apply for the Liberal Party.
     Liberals are people who don't give a hoot what you do, as long as it is mandated. Now they have brought their hypocrisy one step further to include thought and conscience. And Canada's petit Napoleon is leading the charge.
     Some of the untouchable areas which the Thought Police patrol are the incessant persecution of the Christian religion, the right to abortion without limits, gay marriage, animal rights and the sanctity of the environment, even at the expense of humans, among other great progressive causes.
     Islam is treated with respect, as should all religions; however, Jesus is ridiculed, and his name is used in vain and dragged through the mud repeatedly by the press and Hollywood. And this is seen as the proper thing to do because Christianity, and especially the Catholic Church promote traditional concepts of marriage and abortion. In addition to this, by their very nature, Christians are willing to put up with the unrelenting persecution and hypocrisy.
    If you dare to defend traditional marriage, you are labelled a bigot, a racist and a homophobe, whatever that term means. Give it a few years and you could be thrown in jail for a race crime. Criticize our lack of any abortion law in Canada, and you will be labelled a bigot. And they call this progressive. Who says that liberals do not label people? I thought that domain was reserved for so-called red necks.
     Thomas Cardinal Collins got it right when he stated that Saint Thomas More, the patron saint of politicians, ended up dying at the hands of his king because he stuck to his beliefs and his integrity. He was the King's good servant, but God's first.
     Perhaps the good cardinal is implying that Justin Trudeau could be painted as a mini Henry VIII, since both he and Henry could not handle obeying the edicts of the Holy Catholic Church (mostly concerning sex), and both men took it upon themselves to push through their own agenda with great disregard for personal religious conviction, and freedom to express it.
     But make no mistake. Justin Trudeau is no king! He is sniffing for votes, like a rat in an alley, especially in  Quebec where the mainline religion is NHL hockey, and the Catholic Church is well on its way to becoming a mere afterthought. Sports fanatics have even begun to apply Jesus' name to the Canadiens' goalie, and this is done publicly, and with great approval. This is a step too far. Would that God would punish the Habs for this hubris, but I dare not ask this. Perhaps New York will do that job for us.
     The NDP (No Damn Principles) is doing well in Quebec with its abortion agenda, and secular causes, and so, Justin is pulling up from the rear. It is ironic and very sad that a Catholic should be the one to dump this edict on aspiring politicians who might like to have the opportunity to rise in the ranks of the Liberal Party of Canada, but cannot because of their deeply held religious and moral convictions.
     Justin's father stated that the state has no business in the bedrooms of the nation. One would hope that his son might have the vision, intelligence, and generosity to accept an extension of that concept:
    The state has no business telling people what to think or believe.
    
   
    
    
    

The Sacredness of Cooking

The Milton Conquest Boys Club recently took cooking one step further when a group of boys completed a three week advanced cooking class held at the the Longos Loft in Milton, Ontario. Under the supervision of Marvin Duarte, the club president, and the professional expertise of Chef Mike Killop, the boys were shown how to create some advanced culinary gems, both sweet and savoury, and very attractive to boot.

They learned how to make short pastry, and how to use a rolling pin for more than a weapon or plaything. They pounded chicken breasts with a mallet on the way to concocting a delicious chicken parmesan, and cooked up a wonderful tomato mushroom risotto from scratch.

But aside from learning how to prepare and cook, the boys were shown how to avoid waste. For example, they used left over dough to make pinwheel cookies, and they managed to reincorporate leftover tomato sauce into a tomato vinaigrette. They also placed all the chicken bones, and pieces of vegetables into a large pot and cooked up a wonderful chicken broth so that all the boys could take a container home with them. Chef Mike told the boys that it was not good enough to say, “I don't eat this,” and that it is very important to try things out, and that this too could avoid waste in the long run because fussy eating often leads to more discarded food.

And they also learned how to share, because all the prepared food was served up for lunch at the end of the class. For graduation day, the boys got to invite their parents to lunch, and as Chef Mike told them, this was a great opportunity to say thank you to them, and show appreciation for all the cooking they do at home.

And as their graduation certificate certifies, each boy who completed the Family Culinary Community program learned “the importance of food in that it provides nourishment, strength, and a way to connect to one another.”

For the final class, Chef Mike cranked up the work load and the concentration factor and asked the boys to work by a time line, as they would in a real restaurant kitchen. In other words, they were asked to be more realistic because of the pressure facing them, since their hungry guests would soon be arriving for lunch. This was an essential lesson for the boys because anyone who has cooked for a group of people knows that it is very important to know how to deal with the anxiety which results from the pressure of cooking to a schedule.

However, this was far from a “Hell's Kitchen” atmosphere. Chef Mike was a living example of the virtue of patience, always maintaining his composure in front of his apprentice chefs who varied in age from 8 to 15.

But above all else, this advanced cooking class showed the boys that food is sacred, that cooking is a privilege, and that the kitchen is a very special place indeed, because it is the working area which can feed the poor and the hungry.

As Saint Basil the Great said in the 4^th century, the bread which we all possess belongs to the hungry. That indeed emphasizes the sacredness of cooking, and the need to avoid waste and all forms of greed.

Grasp at nothing

    When I was a high school teacher, we used to get out the canoes and run the rapids of the Little Nation River on the Quebec side of the Ottawa River. When the going got rough, we would take a swig of Nanuk from a little white whiskey bottle which had a polar bear pictured on its label. The fire water burned all the way down our esophagus, and was so potent that it could have been used to ignite our fires later on in the day. That was our crutch, and it got us through the narrows.

     And so when Marcus Grodi, Presdent of The Coming Home Network, told a canoe story during one of his speeches at the “In Search of Truth,” conference presented by Catholic Chapter House over the weekend at Canada Christian College in Toronto, I took it all in, hook line and sinker.

      Marcus had been steering a canoe down a treacherous part of a river while doling out the odd piece of advice on how to survive the rapids, to his inexperienced partner kneeling at the front.

      As the current pulled them closer to shore, they passed under an overhanging branch, and the girl grabbed it in an attempt to slow down the canoe. The canoe flipped and they were sucked down the river, but fortunately managed to make it to shore. Later on while being teased by his peers, Marcus kindly said nothing about the girl grasping the branch to the others, but he did have a lot to say about it to us.

      Mr. Grodi advised us to grasp at nothing, and this advice hit home with me because I am by nature a grasper. I have a strong grip, and have always grabbed things along the way, especially if I am afraid of falling, stumbling or tipping over. It seems to be a natural tendency, even if it is a crutch, and can be very dangerous, often stopping my progress in an instant.

      When Blessed John Paul II would exhort me to “Be not afraid,” I would still resist, and look for those overhanging branches to grab. It reminds of the movie “127 Hours,” when the hiker is suspended in a crevasse with his hiking boots pushing the rock wall on one side and his back pushing from the other. Below him is a drop of some sixty feet, all down a very narrow chute, ending in a cold pool of crystal blue water. Without any warning, he lets go, and free falls with the rock wall inches from his nose. The two female climbers who are with him look at each other as if to say, “Who is he kidding?” This sort of trust and bravery spooks me out.

      I ask myself, “Could I do it if I had to?” Would I have the guts to stop pushing out with my feet and back, and simply quit grasping the wall so to speak? Marcus Grodi's

message came through loud and clear and then some. We spend our lives grasping things, collecting, hoarding, and most of it is superfluous, and halts our progress towards Jesus' kingdom.

     As Pope Francis has told us, you will never see a moving truck in a funeral procession.

      When I was a high school teacher, and I felt tired from the grind, I used to tune into Billy Graham's Crusade, which was broadcast from different football stadiums across the USA. Reverend Graham spoke with command, and a seriousness which was unnerving at times. He spoke of the family, and what God meant it to be, and he always had the Bible by his side. I used to wonder how a non-Catholic could speak directly to me, and move me so much. I fact, I enjoyed Billy Graham a lot more than many of the homilies I was hearing at Mass on Sundays.

      Marcus Grodi is cut from the same cloth. Like Billy Graham, he uses his hands to emphasize his points, he lifts his Bible up for all to see, and he opens it up to the verses he wants to use. The Bible becomes his prop, and the medium is the message. This is the magic of their speaking style, and both men possess it to perfection.

      And even though these two preachers have not been anointed in the tradition of the apostles, directly from Saint Peter, they have a great deal to teach us about being faithful Christians in a secular society.

     So let us all pray that Billy Graham will one day come home to the Catholic Church, just as Marcus Grodi did, so that we can welcome him with open arms after his long journey home.

Now that would be cause for celebration.

Amen!

Milton Conquest Club Retreat: a day of sprituality and fun

     Milton Conquest ran its Club Retreat October 12, 2013, and the Club Youth Leaders and Club program boys provided a stellar example of what Conquest is all about.
     The boys led all the activities, and maintained order and control throughout the day. The younger boys had no problem listening to instructions, especially when they were being delivered by the youth leaders. As a result, the whole day seemed to run efficiently and smoothly, and the boys seemed to appreciate the chance to be led by people their own age. There just seems to be something magical about having  youth leaders in charge for a day, and the beaming smiles on all the boys' faces at the end of the retreat seemed to reflect this reality.
     I had the opportunity to attend the Eucharistic Adoration segment with one group, and I watched as Nathan Duarte led them in prayer and contemplation. The group gave him their undivided attention, and as they left the chapel, I could see that they had all changed in some small way, through the question and answer session and the quiet time of adoration, or "radiation therapy" as we like to call it. There were several parishioners in the chapel at the time, and it was easy to see that they were impressed by the seriousness and comportment of the group.
     Of course, the adults, led by Conquest Director, Marvin Duarte had planned the retreat to perfection, and Father Thomas Murphy LC and Brother Nathan Wayne LC, were instrumental in making this a very sacred and spiritual day for all involved.
     And so, the spirituality, the recitation of the Rosary throughout the day, the visitation to Mary's shrine and the presentation of flowers and special intentions, and the closing Mass were all strengthened by the spontaneity of the boys as they were led by their peers.
     And if there is one thing the boys will remember about the Club Retreat it will be Father Murphy's homily about the good wolf and the bad wolf which are in all of us, and how they vie for our attention day in and day out. The bad wolf howls when we are greedy and voracious, and the good wolf howls when we are generous and show gratitude.
     They will also remember that they should always ask God for one thing, and thank him for two.
That attitude of gratitude was probably the most important thing the boys brought home from the Milton Conquest Club Retreat, and we all hope and pray they maintain it throughout their adolescent years and adult lives.
     That is the magic of Conquest. That is just one of its gifts to the boys. Thank God for the Conquest Club Retreat and for the Club Youth Leaders and Club program boys.
    
    

Radiation Therapy

     The Milton Conquest Club recently held its annual retreat under the guidance of Marvin Duarte and Father Thomas Murphy and Brother Nathan. The boys played soccer out on the dusty pitch, learned about the meaning of the mass, and about the real presence of Christ in the host, enjoyed pizza and ice cream and rubbed shoulders with their Conquest friends for the last time this season.
     But the most significant part of the day for me, besides the dedication of the boys to Mary was the Eucharistic Adoration in the chapel at Holy Rosary Catholic Church. It truly was radiation therapy because I could see the boys transform from a group of active, frenetic youngsters into a group of calm and reflective Christians.
     Father Thomas had reinforced the dogma of the real presence with the boys in a talk earlier in the morning, and then they were ready to enter the chapel in the right frame of mind. As I sat at the back watching them pray, I was impressed by their devotion to Jesus and their deep acceptance of the presence of Christ before them. There were adults in the small chapel, but they seemed to accept the group of boys, and the boys accepted them. It was beautiful to see. There was no anxiety, no noise, no competition whatsoever...just boys sitting in front of Christ being radiated by His overwhelming love for them, and His joy at their presence.
     And they were changed in a small way. They seemed more at peace, more tranquil, more serene.
This is the power of the Blessed Sacrament in action, and I am very happy that Conquest has reinforced this great gift in the boys, especially before the summer holidays.
     In a time of rampant consumerism, overwhelming commercialism, ramped up technological wonders which rob us of our peace and focus, and wonder of nature, and the loosening of morals and values and respect for our fellow man, a Conquest retreat is the real thing. And the real presence of Jesus Christ in the Blessed Sacrament is exactly what the boys needed.
     Now they can go out into the world armed with the effects of the radiation therapy they have undergone, knowing that Jesus is with them, and that He is very well pleased that they took the time to sit with Him on a hot, sunny day just before the onset of the summer holidays.
     This is what the Catholic Church is all about, and Conquest Boys Club forms an integral part in the formation of the boys' virtues and love of Jesus for the rest of their lives.
     I thank God every day for that gift, and I thank Him for the marvelous gift of boys.
    
    

Boys on the road to manhood

What is it about the Conquest Club weekend at Camp Brebeuf that continues to draw more and more boys every year?

Is it the wild abandon and exhilaration offered by bush games like “Capture the Flag? Is it the knee-knocking challenge of the high ropes, or the true grit required to complete the rock climb? Or could it be the simple, basic pleasure of roasting marshmallows over the glowing coals of a pit fire nestled deep in the thick, dark forest which, as Gordon Lightfoot put it, is too silent to be real?

I believe it is all of these and much more. Once again, under the leadership of Carl Pinto, who, over the years, has perfected the Camp Brebeuf weekend into an art, and Marvin Duarte, Director of Milton's Conquest Club, boys from the Milton and Pickering clubs lived their faith in nature, far from the confusing and misleading racket of television and the internet.

Leading the spiritual component of the weekend were Father Thomas Murphy L.C. and Brother Nathan, both of whom gave their last ounce of energy to assure that the boys would come out of this weekend much more vibrant in their Catholic faith formation, and spiritual growth, well on their way to becoming strong Catholic men.

I recall one special moment as we sat around the woodstove in the log cabin chapel as Father Murphy told the boys stories about the lives of the saints. Here we were in a camp named after a Canadian Jesuit martyr in the year of a new Jesuit pope. Could it get any more relevant than that?

The only sound was Father Murphy's voice, and the snapping and crackling of the wood in the stove. All eyes were glued on this dedicated priest as he guided the boys' imaginations down the demanding path of sainthood, and its meaning for all of us. What he gave the boys were true role models for survival in a distracting, secular world.

Another memorable time was the Rosary being recited by the God Squad around the roaring pit fire after all the younger boys had left to prepare for lights out. I was impressed by the boys' concentration and focus on the mysteries and by their devotion to Mary. The chanting of the prayers seemed to bounce off the maples, and head up through the opening in the canopy along with the sparks, and on out into the dark ceiling covered in pinpoints of light. It truly was a very special time for us all.

On another occasion, the boys presented skits on the elevated stage in front of the fire pit. The orange flames flickering in the night provided excellent lighting, and added to the drama of the presentations. In one skit, we got to meet a fickle Pontius Pilate, and a rather despicable Barabus, and the boys got to witness first

hand the the injustice and cruelty of the whole scene, and got to experience it up close. In another, we saw the Good Samaritan do what all Christians are called to do, even though others have failed, and it is much easier to pass by. The magic of this occasion was watching the Bible come to life, and seeing the excitement and focus of the young boys who looked up to their older peers with admiration, and an obvious ambition to be part of future skits at Camp Brebeuf.

Saturday morning, as my eight-year-old grandson climbed the tall hydro pole, I checked in with Saint Michael asking him to guide the little fellow as far as he wished to go. When he reached the top, and it was time to cross the horizontal ladder, he began to shake, and asked to be lowered, and as he stood on the solid earth, people were telling him that he had done well and had improved a lot since last year. His father consoled him, and I could tell that he would be stronger for this experience, and that he was determined to better it next time around. I told him later that St. Michael had been there beside him, and that seemed to add extra comfort and solace, and lighten the load.

I would think that everyone at the camp experienced their own set of magical moments, and I do not know what they are; however, I am certain that Jesus witnessed them all, and that he was happy with them, and he saw that it was good.

For what on earth can compare with boys bonding with each other and with their fathers, praying the Rosary together, attending mass in the Pine Cathedral, learning to appreciate and give thanks for the food they receive, and growing side by side in their Catholic faith?

I guess the overriding question is what on earth can compare with a camp which leads boys on the long road to manhood, sainthood and beyond?

Very little, I say. Very little indeed.

What Moms Really Want

     The second annual Momsquest dinner proved once again that mothers will gladly attend a dinner lovingly served and presented by their beloved sons. And it also proved that mothers will attend in droves.
     Mothers also revel in being seated at a circular table with their sons close by, and as the evening proceeds, it becomes pretty obvious that moms simply love being with their sons. They also truly enjoy the tributes presented to specific mothers, but in the name of all mothers. This is what mothers want, and this is what mothers get at Momsquest.
     Milton Conquest is the second largest Conquest group in North America, and under the able guidance of Marvin Duarte and Carl Pinto, the Momsquest dinner was a great success, with over 125 people in attendance.
     There were fathers and grandfathers chopping lettuce for the salads, and heating up the pasta dishes which had been so generously donated by Julia Hanna and the Kids Culinary Community. There were also Conquest boys setting tables and escorting mothers to their assigned seats, and lots of toddlers running around and bouncing off people like ballbearings in a pin ball machine.
     Father Todd Arsenault L.C. said Grace, and delivered an inspiring prayer for all mothers, and then the  group got down to some serious eating. There were large salads, and a choice of meat or vegetarian pasta, and then three large cakes were cut up and served to the appreciative crowd. There was more than enough food to go around and leftovers were packed up and taken home. This was hardly the miracle of the loaves and the fishes, but you could still feel the presence of Jesus, and his love for all mothers and sons, and the magic of a family gathering around good and simple food, shared in appreciation and love.
     For many, the highlight of the evening is the slide show presented by Marvin Duarte. Complete with accompanying music, the slides give a wonderful overview of the year's activities and allow the mothers to search for their sons participating in the various activities. "That's me Mom!" shouted one boy, and "There I am!" pointed another. The scope of the activities soon becomes apparent, and it was hard to believe that we had accomplished so many things over the year, still with Camp Brebeuf and the Day Retreat to go. There were also excellent video presentations which the audience seemed to enjoy thoroughly.
    Ryan Pinto and Joseph Mendonca delivered lovely tributes to their adoring mothers, in the name of all the boys present, and when Joseph maintained that all mothers deserved at least one day off per year, a loud ovation erupted, especially from the moms. And at one point during Ryan's speech, there was nary a dry eye in the house (especially among the mothers).
     And then the boys brought their mothers a red rose, and a Mother's Day card which they had constructed at Conquest, and we all sat back to watch the glow on the mothers' faces.
     What I find so refreshing about Mother's Day is the simplicity of the demands mothers make on us all. They do not want lavish gifts or giant feasts or grand tributes. They like experiences which many would call 'corny.' They are in search of love and appreciation, and of course well deserved respect. None of this is material, and it is all very inexpensive.
     Momsquest provided all that and more.
     One famous proverb states that a child's only true classroom is in its mother's heart, and I have no doubt whatsoever that there was a great deal of learning going on around those tables at Momsquest.
     Long live Conquest! Long live Mother's Day!
    
    
    

Boys in the kitchen

     The Milton Conquest Boys' Club recently concluded its second cooking class under the auspices of the Kids Culinary Community at The Loft at the Milton Longo's store.
     Under the adept guidance of Chef Mike and his team, the boys learned how to prepare nutritious, exciting food, present a creative meal, and clean up afterwards. And all this was accomplished with order, discipline and professionalism. In addition, the boys learned how to share, co-operate and give thanks for the food which they had magically transformed from bowls of ingredients into delicious meals.
     With society's emphasis on the disconnect, a class like this offers the boys a chance to spend three hours focusing on something as basic, and necessary as tasty, healthy food. The only technology involved was the microwave oven, and the bright led lights over the large mirror which reflected all the action taking place over the stove. There were no gadgets in sight.
     This was as simple and effective as it gets, with constant attention from a chef who is obviously dedicated to teaching young people the value of cooking. Boys need to get their hands off the video games and into the dough and onto the cutting board, and that is exactly what they did for nine hours total, over three weekend mornings.
     The kitchen became a place of serious work, yet enjoyable activity which produced delicious and attractive dishes. The result was beaming smiles, and the pride which comes from a job well done.
I am certain that these young boys will reap the benefits of these cooking sessions for years to come, and well into their adult lives, and that their future wives will be thanking the Kids Culinary Community and Conquest over and over again.
     Each session ended with a meal, and Marvin Duarte, the Conquest Club Director would say Grace as all the boys bowed their heads, and prayed in silence, and thanksgiving for the wonderful food and the opportunity to cook it under such talented direction.
    At the final cooking class, Julia Hanna, Director of the Kids Culinary Community, along with Chef Mike, handed out gift bags and diplomas, and the boys served a delicious meal with a Mexican flavour, to their parents and friends. Julia spoke of the importance of healthy eating, and the art of cooking, and thanked everyone present.
     I could not help but be impressed with the pride, dedication, hard work and commitment of the Kids Culinary Community, and the generosity of Longo's for providing the food and the Loft for our use.
     But in the end, the lasting impression I will treasure is the radiant expressions on the boys' faces as they got to serve the food they had prepared, and cooked to the people they love so dearly.  Conquest Boys Club is dedicated to teaching virtues to the boys, and the virtues which stood out for me were generosity and sharing and loving care.
     Healthy food, virtues, friends and loved ones...now that is a lot to give thanks for.

Two tragedies...One covered, One hidden

 
     The Newtown tragedy was covered by the press as it should have been. This horrible tragedy was examined on television, radio, the internet, and most obviously by the newspapers. No stone was left unturned.
     President Obama used its impact to try to sell his gun control legislation. He spoke of the children and how society owed it to them to protect them and make certain they would not be hurt again. He spoke to the nation surrounded by children who seemed to be pleading with the public with their eyes.
     At about the same time, the trial of an abortion doctor began in the United States. The list of atrocities committed in his abortion facility are too gruesome to list here. But some people believe that up to three hundred babies may have been murdered by this doctor and his assistants.
     These babies were post abortive in the sense that they had been delivered and then murdered. These are called late term abortions or partial birth abortions. As the details of the trail emerged, there was a vast silence in the media. Newspapers refused to cover it. Television was eerily silent. We heard nothing form the president or any of his cronies. The abortion industry ran for cover.
     What this tells me is that we live in a sick society. It is fine to poilticise and publicize tragedies which have been deemed politically acceptable to cover, but the deaths of so many babies in a scenario reminiscent of Hitler's ovens is untouchable.
     The hypocrisy is obvious. The sickness is evident. The killing goes on.

    

I am an anti abortionist

     Perhaps it is time to change the "Pro-Life" label to "Anti-Abortion." At least then we might have a chance at getting the abortion lobby to change its name to "Pro-Abortion." That would be a giant step in the right direction, and would separate the abortion movement from its phony euphemisms.
     Ever since the Supreme Court ruled in favour of a woman's right to choose, the abortion movement has veered away from even using the term "abortion" anywhere near its base. It's all about choice, and choice rings true with a lot of people these days. In fact. we live for choice. Instead of surviving, we spend most of our time choosing what we want from a universe of choices. Even shopping for supper has become a monumental chore.
     So choice is seen as good, and a right. Abortion, on the other hand, is not so pretty. In fact, young people are beginning to balk at the notion of snipping spinal cords and vacuuming fetuses. Even the notion of choice may not be as appealing as it used to be. And so the abortion industry is seeking a new title.
     There is only one which applies: "Pro-Abortion". Forget the misleading talk of rights. The notion of abortion precludes any talk of rights because it denies the fetuses' right to survival from the very beginning. So, delete the word "rights." It does not apply.
     Perhaps the debate will have more meaning if we separate the camps into Pro-Abortion and Anti-Abortion. Anything is worth a try.
     And this way, maybe, just maybe, we will know what we are really arguing about, and the feminists can forget their rhetoric about women's rights, and begin to focus on the killing fields, and their bloody survival.
     And we can all see abortion for what it really is: the cruel, immoral and selfish solution of a society which is obsessed with sex, and which refuses to face the natural consequences of its actions.
    
    

Pregnancy as a disease

A large shock went through society this week when it was confirmed that there was a chance that some birth control pills might be placebos. This was a major catastrophe, especially for the leftist press.

The headlines were striking. They seemed to be saying that an unwanted pregnancy was akin to a death in the family. How could people go on living if they did not know that the pill might not come across? This was a ticking time bomb.

As I read these reports, I was struck by the attitude which has developed since the first birth control pills were introduced way back in the sixties. We now have Hillary Clinton pushing for womens' health throughout the third world and probably the number one ailment on her list is pregnancy. Since when has pregnancy been classified as a disease? Where will this kind of thinking get us?

How would Blessed Pope John Paul II have reacted to this? What would Jesus have thought?

It seems to me that pregnancy is a gift from God, and as such should be treated with the utmost respect. Why have people become so fearful of this gift? What has changed in society to make us regard the miracle of birth as unwanted and the occasion for grief, hand-wringing and abortion?

If Hillary Clinton wants women to enjoy equality and freedom, she should advocate abstinence and forget about her war on birth. She should push for the natural methods of birth control which have nothing to do with polluting, harmful chemicals which debase the sexual act and lead to promiscuity, and broken marriages as well as a general distaste for the miracle of life.

People think they can control everything, including birth. The extension of this kind of thinking is sex selection and abortion of problematic fetuses.

Another extension of this type of thinking is the objectification of sexuality and the debasing of the sacrament of marriage. Hillary Clinton is not worried about this. She sees far into the future when an ideal population will be controlled chemically and surgically, especially in the third world.

This her solution.

This is our problem

Two Domes on the day of election

Two Domes

While I was working out at the gym, I noticed that the panel on CNN had the Capitol dome as their background, while another station had placed St. Peter's dome in Rome as its backdrop.

I couldn't help marveling at the vast difference between these two domes, not necessarily physically, but more so in the messages coming out out each venue.

Washington is now the major player in the culture of death, seemingly using abortion as its solution to all the world's problems. Obama and Clinton make no secret about their desire to push abortion on all the third world countries, while at home they continue to finance Planned Parenthood whose main function is to provide abortions.

The Vatican on the other hand is diametrically opposed to anything which does not support life from conception to death. It also refuses to acknowledge same sex marriage because it is unnatural and does not lead to progeny. Washington is now pushing same sex marriage so hard that President Obama is trying to influence individual states to change their laws even though this will contradict the Defense of Marriage Act. Obama has said that our notion of marriage is basically out of date and has to be changed.

The dome in Washington is supposed to represent freedom of religion, but Obama has introduced legislation to force Catholic employers to provide their employees with contraceptive drugs and abortion pills.

The dome of St. Peter's is supposed to represent a culture of life as realized through 200 years of tradition and scripture and the guidance of the Magisterium. And it does.

                                        Did Jesus ever laugh?

     I may be wrong, but I have yet to find a place in the Bible where Jesus is actually laughing. In fact, the only time I can recall Jesus actually smiling is when he is surrounded by little children, and this may well be artistic interpretation.
     We know that Jesus wept, and we know that he got very angry in the temple, and justifiably so. He was not angry at something the people had done to him, rather at something they were doing to His Father's house. But when it comes to Jesus laughing, I am at a loss.
     Perhaps he produced a smile of derision, as when he noted the hypocrisy of the Pharisees, but did he ever laugh along with the apostles over something some one of them may have done. It is very conceivable that Peter would have been the object of mirth because of his naivety, but did Jesus really laugh? When he did, it must have been a good laugh, a kind laugh, and a laugh which would injure nobody.
     One thing is for certain. He did not laugh a lot during his ministry. And this seems to fly in the face of contemporary society's fixation with stand-up comedy, and television sitcoms. Are they really that funny, or do they simply use other peoples' misfortunes and imperfections as a means of put downs and derision? Would Jesus laugh at people?
     If laughter must be so selective, then where are we to find it as good Christians. What we simply have to do is follow Jesus' lead. Never laugh at people. Use wit and humour by all means, but keep it clean and innocuous.
Do not hurt other people in order to 'feel good' about yourself, because the shoe may well be on the other foot sooner than you might think.
     Bishop Fulton J. Sheen used to make thousands of people laugh with the simplest and most wholesome stories, well told and well thought out. He was never nasty and always kind, but he was very, very funny.
     Contemporay talk show hosts would do well to watch some of his video tapes. But then, if they cut out all the satire and sarcasm and off colour jokes, they wouldn't have any material for their shows.
     If we follow Jesus, we laugh with good nature, kindness and appropriateness for all. We say things which would be appropriate in any circumstance or milieu. Without these elements, laughter has no place in a Christian life.

Rod McDonald
    
    

Cooking for God

The Milton Conquest Boys' Club has just completed its first ever cooking school, and from all reports, the culinary skills of the twelve boys involved have undergone a major transformation.

Under the guidance of Conquest leader Marvin Duarte, and a professional team from Longo's Stores Ltd., the boys attended three classes of three hours each, on consecutive Saturday mornings at the Milton Longo's Store. The aim of the Kids Culinary Community is to teach children the importance of food, in that it provides nourishment, strength, and a way to connect to one another.

Another thing a cooking class does for the Conquest boys is teach them the importance of a family meal, and the hard work and dedication which are the foundation of such family traditions. With the proliferation of gadgetry, young boys are spending way too much time staring at the electronic screen, and way too little time watching their parents cook. How are they to learn the basics if they are not even in the kitchen?

Chef Mike, Chef Kim and Chef Maria teamed up to provide top notch culinary guidance as the boys made home-made pasta from scratch, tasty meatballs and two kinds of pasta sauce, freshly cooked garlic bread and home-made brownies. And that was just one class. In addition to sitting down at the tables and enjoying the fruits of their labours after the class, the boys also got to take any leftovers home so that their parents and siblings could taste their fare.

On the last day, the boys were given an authentic diploma at the graduation ceremony, and the invited guests got to sit down to a delicious lunch which had been prepared and cooked by the boys that very morning.

One might ask, “What does a cooking class have to do with the Milton Boys' Club?”

The answer is, “Plenty.” First of all, the Conquest activities which involve eating always begin with the saying of Grace, and this ritual begins to have its effect over time. The boys are asked to settle down and listen to the words. They are asked to show appreciation for the food which they are about to enjoy, and most importantly, they take the time to thank God for his limitless generosity.

But at the cooking classes, this activity took on very special meaning for the boys because they were the ones who did the preparation and cooking for a change. What they were thanking God for was their own cooking, and so Grace seemed to take on a special importance for them.

The boys also got to see the hard work which goes into a clean-up after a great deal of food has been prepared. This too, gave the boys a deeper appreciation of what goes on in their own homes day after day, week after week and month after month. As if to illustrate this lesson, little Noah could be found kneeling under a table picking up individual crumbs after the kids had made an apple crumble.

In the movie, Babette's Feast, a professional chef cooks up a masterpiece for a group of elderly people who have never been served a fancy banquet. She puts her heart and soul into the meal, and she does all the work out of her love for this group of elderly residents. This indeed, is an example of cooking for God.

In many ways, what the Conquest boys did at the cooking classes was basically the same idea.. They cooked for each other, and for their guests on the final day. They had to concentrate on producing food which would be presentable and tasty, and of which they would be proud.

In effect, what they did was cook for God, because when we put love and generosity into our cooking, that is what we are doing. Perhaps the next time they can go one step further and donate some of their cooking to a soup kitchen.

Now that would really be cooking for God.

Rod McDonald

A little boy says Grace

     We recently went to a water park lodge in Niagara Falls, Ontario. There were hundreds of small children bouncing around the place, like balls in a pin-ball machine, having the time of their lives. I now have some appreciation for the reasons behind Tennessee Williams calling them "No -neck monsters." Parents were in tow, on the lookout for possible threats to their vacation, and making certain that this exceedingly costly holiday turned out to be a success, and that a good time was had by all.
     Part of that success depended on the depth of mom and dad's wallet because a large part of the complex was devoted to rampant consumerism. The stores were loaded with plastic merchandise, and the arcade bekoned with its bells, whistles and chimes, and of course the expensive prizes which took thousands upon thousands of tickets to buy.
     My wife and I went through all the motions with our seven-year-old grandson. He was so excited in the stores that he almost hyperventilated. It was obvious that he was having trouble choosing, and choice, as we all know, is one of the major contributors to our country's anxiety.
     When it came time to eat lunch, we were confronted with the same overwhelming rush to satiate the appetite. Kids were running from the sausages to the french fries and then back over to the pizzas and the finger foods. Some of them had plates piled so high that it was little wonder some came tumbling to the floor, with the prerequisite cheers. I wonder whether they would cheer in the Third World. Parents were running helter skelter, trying to keep up with the kids, and everybody looked as if he/she was worried the food might run out at any time.
     When we finally got to our bench and sat down, we got everything placed and ordered our drinks, and then we took a breather. Our grandson had become accustomed to this practice, and as I surveyed the place, it struck me that most of the people had begun chowing down. It looked like one of those food contests in which the contestants have to wolf down as many hot dogs as possible within five minutes. It reminded me of the hard boiled egg contest in the film "Cool hand Luke" in which the convicts shove as many eggs down Luke's gullet as possible before the time limit is called.
     We then made the Sign of the Cross, and said our Grace out loud with our heads bowed and our hands clasped. I did not look around to see whether anyone might be watching us, but that is not the point. We were thanking God for the food which he had provided for us, and for the farmers who had grown it. We were taking the time to settle down and acknowledge our dependence on God and our appreciation for what we were being given.
     Our grandson was hungry, but he had taken the time to show his realization that the food he was about to enjoy should not be taken for granted. It is this humility and appreciation which is lacking in contemporary society, and which should be formed at the family level. It is up to the parents to take the time to teach the children how to say Grace. Only then will people appreciate the calm which they are experiencing and the gratefulness which wells up from their hearts.
     A consumer society runs from one thing to the next in a race to satisfy an appetite which is insatiable. This is the nature of man. That includes the food we eat and the way we eat it. Saying Grace is the best way to avoid overlooking the fact that we could just as well be lying in a gutter somewhere with starvation staring us in the face as at a table overflowing with so many choices. Many people do not even know the origin of the abundance of food which they are so eager to devour.
     Saying Grace brings us home to the reality of our mortality and the sacredness of our sustenance.
     Saying Grace takes that greedy, "Big Mac anxiety attack" look off our faces.
     Saying Grace calms the angst-riddled cafeteria and muffles the chomping hords.
 
    
    
   

The skunk, St. Francis, and the Conquest retreat

Last Saturday, I was picking up my grandson in Milton for the one day Conquest Boys Club Retreat, and I decided to check out the progress of the backyard garden. As I was heading for the tomato plants, I said hello to the white statue of St. Francis which sits at the front of the garden, just inside the wooden fence.

It was rather fitting to greet St. Francis because he had been blessed by Father Thomas Murphy of the Legionaries of Christ, during a house blessing, and Father Thomas would be leading the retreat which we were about to attend.

I then bent down to get a better view of the tomato plants and to check for any suckers. I was aware that there was a humane animal trap in the garden because there had been problems with rabbits eating the greens. Out of habit, I looked up to check it, and there, not a foot from me, inside the trap, staring me down with two coal black eyes was a medium sized skunk.

For some reason, and it may well have been the help of St. Francis, who wanted me to get to the retreat safe and sound, the skunk was calm, cool and collected, and seemed quite content to be in the trap. I however, could not read the skunk's mind, and so gingerly backed up towards the house, and then made a mad dash into the kitchen to announce the news to the kids.

Justin and I had to leave for the retreat, and so did not get to see the Animal Rescue people throw a blanket over the trap. The skunk sprayed the blanket, and the rescue person then freed the skunk to go on its merry way throughout the backyards of Milton.

Because St. Francis wanted me to get Justin to the retreat, we made it just on time for the registration. And what a day it was.

Under the guidance of Marvin Duarte and Carl Pinto, and of course, Father Murphy, the boys attended three talks (Mary's place in our lives, Importance of the Rosary, Your spiritual battle plan) played soccer outside on the pitch, and enjoyed three types of pizza for lunch. For snacks, they enjoyed fresh grapes, oranges and apples.

Under the protection of the maple trees, Father Thomas led a Marian Procession, and a dedication to the Immaculate Heart of Mary, during which the boys presented a vase of flowers to a beautifully carved wooden statue of the Blessed Virgin.

The day ended with a mass celebrated by Father Murphy in Holy Rosary Catholic Church, and presentation of awards at Holy Rosary Catholic School. The boys were exhausted, but happy and fulfilled, and they had enjoyed another full day of bonding, formation and physical activity, all of which guarantee the continued success of the Conquest philosophy.

Father Murphy passed out a Novena Prayer to the Immaculate Heart of Mary which the boys brought with them as they left for home. And the words are still ringing in their hearts:

O Most Blessed Mother....receive with understanding and

compassion the petitions we place before you today, especially

our Conquest Club, all its members, its leaders,our families

and Holy Rosary Parish.

The Pine Cathedral

     The outdoor chapel is nestled in a 70 year-old planted pine stand which in turn is part of the magnificent bush which comprises so much of the property that is known as Camp Brebeuf, located in Rockwood, Ontario. In essence, the chapel is a natural cathedral with the sky for a roof and the tall, slender pines forming the walls. The floor is carpeted with golden pine needles which are very comfortable to kneel on, and the door is an opening cut through some maples which thrive majestically at the entrance. The tops of the pine trees form a green, swaying canopy which keeps the floor area cool and shady, and provides the constant sound of the whispering wind.

      This cathedral has no stained glass windows; however, the sun's rays penetrate the pines at such diverse angles that the light plays on the forest floor, continually changing the colours within as in some magical light show.

      It was on June 10, in this pine cathedral that some members of the combined Conquest Clubs of Milton and Pickering attended a Sunday Mass celebrated by Father Thomas Murphy, who was aided by Brother John Choi, both of the Legionaries of Christ. The Mass was a part of the annual trip to Camp Brebeuf, led by district supervisor Carl Pinto, Milton Club supervisor Marvin Duarte, and Pickering supervisor Dave Wilson.

      Some of the boys had spent a good portion of the morning setting up two small altars and decorating them with wild flowers, rocks collected from the surrounding hills and pieces of driftwood and pine cones. The altars were to be used during the Eucharistic procession which was to follow the Mass. The boys also carried a large wooden cross from one of the log cabins and placed it carefully in a pile of rocks at the entrance to the chapel as a sign of welcome and a beacon of our Christian Faith.

      During the readings for the Mass of Corpus Christi, the voices of the Conquest boys rang out clearly in the pine cathedral, followed by Father Murphy's reading of the Gospel, and a homily about the universality of the Eucharist. As Father Murphy said, “There are places on this planet where you cannot buy a Coke, but no place where you will not find the Eucharist.” It was so quiet that you could have heard the proverbial pin drop, even on the pine needle floor.

      After the final blessing, Father Murphy led a Eucharistic procession through the pine cathedral, stopping at each of the two altars, where everyone knelt down for prayers and adoration. The daisies on the altar were a brilliant white, illuminated by the sun's rays, and

the silence seemed to be broken by an inaudible prayer written on each boys' heart: “Thank you Lord for this special weekend.”

      The boys had climbed rock faces with the skill of seasoned cliff climbers, traversed slippery and wet rope ladders thirty feet from the ground while overcoming their fear of heights. They had also paddled canoes beside a beaver dam, built raging camp fires deep in the dark woods, and roasted marshmallows in their glowing embers under the watchful eyes of a family of hungry racoons.

      But the Mass and Eucharistic procession which took place in the golden confines of the Pine Cathedral was no doubt the climax of the weekend. For this was Conquest at its very best, forming young boys into strong and vibrant Catholics with a very healthy respect for the

Eucharist.

      At a time when the press was trumpeting the fact that a recent poll found that two thirds of Irish Catholics do not believe in the Transubstantiation, there were the Conquest boys proving that their respect for the Eucharist is deep and abiding.

      And as the boys sang “Holy God We Praise thy Name,” even the noisy blue jays settled down and left the morning to the praising of Jesus, and His Holy Name. These boys will now return to their everyday lives, enriched by nature and the renewal of faith that Conquest is so successful in doing.

      As one boy said in answer to Father Murphy's question about the identity of Jesus: “He is the son of God.” That cry is still echoing throughout the deep dark forest of Camp Brebeuf and well beyond.

      Thanks again Conquest!

e-mail to Thomas Cardinal Collins

 

Wednesday, June 6, 2012 11:48:44 AM

Your Eminence Cardinal Collins,

It was with grave concern that my wife and I heard of the passing of Bill 13 by the Ontario Government of Dalton McGuinty. We feel that this action is a transgression on our religious freedom as Roman Catholics in the province of Ontario. Please invoke Section 93 of the Constutional Act of 1867, and reject Bill 13. Furthermore, we feel that we have been betrayed by the McGuinty Government, and we will trust it no longer.

As a volunteer at Conquest activities for young Catholic boys in Milton, I have seen the positive results of the teaching of virtues and the Catechism of the Catholic Church. It would break my heart to see these results eroded by a law which is designed to promote propaganda in our schools, sooner or later.

Our governmnt has let us down and no longer has the right to be called a leader. It is time for the Catholic Church to take over, and we are behind you 100%. You and this cause will remain in our prayers.

Yours in Christ,

Rod and Louise McDonald

 

Meeting a Saint

An overflow crowd of worshipers was spilling out of the entrance to the church and onto St Clair Avenue by the time my wife and I arrived. It was Saturday morning, and the body of Saint Maria Goretti, the patron saint of young women, purity and rape victims, was being viewed at St. Nicholas of Bari Church.

We pulled in our breath, and slid sideways through the tightly packed crowd, cautiously making our way into the main body of the church, where a Mass was already in progress. The energy was palpable, and I was struck by the variety of ages of the participants. I also appreciated the fact that nobody pushed or shoved, and that such a large throng could be so calm and peaceful.

There were elderly ladies dressed completely in black, fingering rosaries and whispering their prayers as they tried to make space to get enough air to allow them to breathe properly. There were young children in strollers, and babbling babies in mothers' arms, teenagers nervously preparing their Blackberries to get a close-up of Saint Maria Goretti, young couples searching for a blessing on their budding relationships, and middle aged Catholics renewing their faith before a saint who had just taken an overseas flight all the way from Italy.

Father Vito asked us all to say the Our Father in the language of our choice, whether that might be Italian, English, or any other, but he emphasized that we should say it with spirit and meaning, especially in honor of Saint Maria Goretti. And the crowd acquiesced. One could have heard our prayers down the street and into the next block. In fact, I have never heard the Our Father prayed with such fervour, and the smile on the priest's face seemed to be saying, “Can you imagine if we prayed like this at every Mass?”

At the end of Mass came the thunderous cheers and loud ovations for Saint Maria Goretti: “Viva Santa Maria Goretti!” shouted the priest, and the crowd took up the chant three times, and ended with a standing ovation. This is the type of energy we are accustomed to seeing at a sports event, but not at a church. And this is the type of warm energy only a saint can evoke from a church full of prayerful people, from many differing cultures, on a cold and cloudy Saturday morning in Toronto.

As I passed by the glass-sided coffin, I reveled in the Gregorian Chants being piped throughout the church, and I decided to kneel down so that I could see Saint Maria Goretti better, for the coffin was quite low. And once she got me on my knees, Saint Maria shook me to my core with her sense of purity, and the aura of forgiveness which surrounded her body.

Maria Goretti's life ended 110 years ago on a farm in a small Italian village, but here she was in downtown Toronto, doing what the saints of the Catholic Church do so well.

She had brought together a disparate group which had travelled from all parts of the city and beyond. She had made them forget their busy, connected lives, and for an hour or so, had given them peace, hope and a tangible example that a holy life is possible and within reach of us all.

And because of that, they almost lifted the roof, as their joyful cries flew through the doors of the church, and down the sidewalks of St. Clair Avenue:

“Viva Santa Maria Goretti!”

Mothers are the backbone of Conquest

     Friday evening, the Milton Conquest team presented MomsQuest, in the form of a dinner for the mothers, and in some cases, grandmothers of the members of the club. The event turned out to be doubly effective, because it also happened to be Mother's Day weekend.
     The dinner was organized by regional supervisor Carl Pinto, and the Milton Club supervisor, Marvin Duarte. Carl's son, Ryan and Marvin's son, Nathan made lively presentations outlining the nature of Conquest, and many of the benefits they had personally enjoyed as members. It was obvious that the mothers appreciated this input very much.
     MomsQuest was a remarkable evening in every respect. The boys were beaming with pride resulting from having their mothers present, and from having the chance to sit beside them at a dinner sponsored by their club.
     Boys in Conquest are often picked up and hustled off by their mothers after the meetings, but they seldom get the chance to show them what Conquest is all about. MomsQuest is the perfect opportunity for the latter. Moms got to see their sons serving, and cleaning tables, and relating to other boys of their age in a social situation, and the mothers' approval of these activities was obvious.
     It has often been said that a mother's heart is a boy's real classroom, and this axiom came to life at the MomsQuest dinner. The boys were on stage so to speak, and they shone with pride and excitement. Whatever Conquest is, it has the boys' mothers to thank for it. They are the true heart and soul of Conquest, and the MomsQuest dinner was a well deserved tribute to their commitment to and love of the Conquest concept.
     The dinner also demonstrated just how strong the ties between mothers and sons really are.
     Later on in the weekend, I overheard my seven-year-old grandson telling his neighbours about his experience at MomsQuest, and what he said revealed a great deal to me.
     "Guess what I did Friday night," he asked.
     "What was that, Charles?" asked Brian, his neighbour.
     "We had a dinner at Conquest for our moms, and we got to feed them and sit beside them. We cleaned up the tables, and they didn't have to do a thing. It was the best Conquest ever!"
     And so the fathers and sons got to show off a bit, and the mothers got the opportunity to sit back and take in the magic and respect that is the Boys' Conquest Club.
     This is the same magic they see on their boys' faces every Conquest Friday evening, when they come home tired, sweaty and radiating the joy of Christ.
     This is also the same respect for the Catholic Church which they see in their boys when they attend Mass or go to confession, and the same appreciation they demonstrate when they meet a priest on the street, or at the mall.
     I was sold on Conquest from the very first meeting I attended with my grandsons. After MomsQuest, I got the feeling that the moms were all sold on Conquest too.
     And that is a very, very good thing.