MH - Short Takes

Sorry for the dearth of posting lately; it might continue for the next week or two. We haven't had a lot of time to cruise our favorite sites either, so our apologies there as well. But we will have something tomorrow, and perhaps on Saturday as well. We'll try to catch up on everything, though - can't disappoint our readers!

In the meantime, here are a couple of things I noticed over at NRO that you might find interesting. Some people might wonder why I use them as a source so frequently. It is true that my politics, such as they are, tend to be conservative, but you'll notice that I don't usually link to the political stories. Truth is, some of the best cultural writing can be found at NRO, and that's what usually catches my interest. I also think that since NRO isn't necessarily a first stop for many of our readers, we might be bringing them something they wouldn't otherwise see.

(Of course, there's also the fact that linking to other stories does save time when I'm in a crunch, but that's beside the point!)

So, in no particular order, here is a very interesting essay by Carol Iannone on Rembrandt's Portrait of Christ:

This Jesus possesses a diffident yet confident quality that bespeaks a fullness of personhood beneath — both strong and gentle, wise and innocent, having a humble aspect and yet an awareness of who he is. He is not gesturing toward us, as depicted in so many paintings of Jesus, but his eyes directly engage even as his hands remain crossed quietly on his breast. He is interested in us, yet reticent and pensive, it seems. Those steady, dark brown eyes fix the viewer, while his head tilts to the side, giving the impression that he is scrutinizing you, studying you.

[...]

A Christ who sized you up, maybe the way he sized up the chatty Samaritan woman at Jacob's well or the rich young man who thought so well of himself. Where are you now, viewer, he might be saying, what's going on in you, are you ready for me? What are you holding onto, what worthless baggage are you carrying so that you can't come my narrow way? You couldn't think of anything petty while in the purview of that calm, knowing, intelligent, and potentially redemptive gaze.

Here's a report from the eminent Michael Novak on the upcoming conclave: Italian press reports that Cardinal Ratzinger has the support of between 40 and 55 of the 77 cardinals needed to elect the next pope. Novak is properly cautious; remember the old saying "he who enters the conclave a Pope leaves as a Cardinal." Nonetheless, this seems to me an indication that, as Novak says, "The loyalty expressed by millions all around the world to John Paul II became so visible at the funeral that 'Continuator' is now the motif." I cannot wait to see how this plays out.

Finally, here are two older articles on the Pope: Novak, again, reporting on the funeral, and the message of the outpouring of affection:

It is not so much the doctrinal teachings that are here in question, but rather the love of our Lord Jesus Christ, and for all human beings through him, that Pope Wojtyla taught us. Fidelity to doctrine, yes, but first things first: It is the distinctive love that God himself brought into the world, the sun's flame of caritas, which Dante writes is "the Love that moves the sun and all the stars." It is this that fired our John Paul. He was a vessel of the love of Jesus Christ for the entire world. He was Jesus' vicar. His life among us was too short. We would have liked to enjoy his company, his strength, his laughter for all eternity. And now we shall. It is only here that we must live with sorrow a little while.

And a personal reflection by Larry Kudlow, a convert to Catholicism, on the role John Paul played, and continues to play, in his personal conversion:

But as the journey unfolds, my life keeps getting better and better. Materially, there are always ups and downs. But the spiritual life of faith sustains me each day. I have learned to be not afraid to follow this new path. I believe that’s what God wants me to do. He sent Pope John Paul II to all of us to preach this timeless message: Be not afraid. For that we will be eternally grateful.

More later, and I promise (or at least strongly hope!) there will be another installment upcoming on our continuing series on Distributism.

MH - Requiem for a Pope

Yes, I know that Mozart didn't complete the Requiem, that after his death it was finished by Sussmayer. At the time, some even thought the complete work to be a forgery, although I don't think anyone believes that now. There may be some question as to exactly how much of the Requiem was Mozart's, but in the end it doesn't matter. If it walks like a duck and quacks like a duck, it's a duck. The Requiem is Mozart, and if ever one needed proof of his sublime genius, it can be found in this, his final work.

Last night the Requiem was performed at St. Agnes for the repose of the soul of Pope John Paul. As has been the case with so many of the ceremonies surrounding the death and burial of the Pope, it was a scene of indescribable drama (on the way home, Judie said it was too bad Anderson Cooper hadn't been able to see this). Three priests and two deacons, clad in scarlet red vestments. Forty altar boys. The papal flag, with a black ribbon at the top. The tolling church bells. A packed church - we were squeezed in there like sardines. And through it all, the magnificance of Mozart. To listen to the music is, as I said earlier, proof of genius; combined with the ancient rites of the Church, it becomes an almost overpowering experience.

On Sunday there had been a particularly appropriate portrait of John Paul at the Marian altar; it was not a formal portrait but an action shot showing the Holy Father, his arms upraised, speaking into a microphone. To me it seemed as if he were still talking to us, still teaching us, still reminding us, "Be Not Afraid." Last night this portrait had been replaced with another of the Pope; and this, too, was appropriate for the occasion. The picture, surrounded on the altar by Easter lillies, showed the Pope in his white vestments, deep in contemplative prayer, his eyes closed, his white figure shining out from a darkened backdrop, a modest figure when compared to the overall size of the picture.

Fr. Welzbacher's homily was a moving, stirring tribute. I have a feeling it was being recorded, and if so I'll post some highlights when it becomes available. The theme was clear, however: here was a great man, a courageous man, a towering historical figure, a man who lived his entire life as a witness to the faith and who gave his church and his people everything he had. He was an inspiration to the young, the future of the that church, and in that sense (as in so many others) the true fruits of his work are just beginning. He is already being called "John Paul the Great," a title which surely will be formalized, and will probably be pronounced a Doctor of the church as well. The shouts of "Santo!" at the funeral merely confirm what many think, that here was a living saint.

It is hard to believe that John Paul is in need of our prayers now; as Cardinal Ratzinger said, he is assuredly at the window of heaven looking down at us now. We offer them all the same, assured that Our Lord will use those prayers as He sees fit where they are most needed.

The people came to the altar rail for Communion as the formal portion of the Requiem wound down ("May eternal light shine on them, O Lord, with Thy saints for ever, because Thou art merciful. Grant the dead eternal rest, O Lord, and may perpetual light shine on them with Thy saints for ever, because Thou are merciful."). They continued to come, and when the Requiem ended the orchestra played an instrumental version of Ave Verum Corpus, and still they came. At the end of the two hour and five minute Mass the organ played solemnly, the procession left the sanctuary, and many who had come to worship stayed behind for a moment, perhaps looking at the portrait and offering a final prayer and a final goodbye to the Pope whom they had loved, and who had loved them.

Mozart's brilliance was truly a gift of God, and his Reqiuem is the artist returing that gift to Him from Whom it came. Some (probably the same ones who question the authorship of the Requiem) will remind us that Mozart was a member of the Masons, a group Catholics to this day are prohibited from joining. Again, I say that it matters little in the end, for when listening to proof of God's existance, all other thoughts are just killjoys.

MH - The Paradox of Modern Thinking

Jarrett Connor has a very good post regarding a discussion earlier this week in The Corner as to whether or not Pope John Paul II was a "paradox." What do they mean by this? Well, the Pope was certainly a conservative when it came to social issues such as abortion, but then he also opposed capital punishment (or at least felt its use should be dramatically curtailed). You don't need to document his opposition to Communism, and yet he was often harsh in his assessment of unfettered capitalism. As one correspondent put it, while the Pope's religious legacy was "mana from heaven," his "*political/economic* views were often, um, wrong. So what? They were mostly harmless."

Jarrett couldn't disagree with that more. Excerpt:

I think that it is a mistake to dub the Pope paradoxical, however. It is the parties that have the paradoxes. The Pope's positions are all in sympathy with one another. Why oppose totally unregulated free markets? Because they degrade human beings. Why oppose communist domination? Because it degrades human beings.

[...]

Consider stem cell research on human embryos. If the principle of human dignity is to be upheld (and applied to embryos as the church would have it) then embryonic stem cell research should not only be unfunded--it should be illegal. Neither party has the political stomach for that, which suggests that the political center of the brave new world debates is much further away from the church's teaching than on say, social safety nets or abortion. On biotech--and many related issues--it appears that neither party genuinely wants to stand with the church. None of that changes the fundamentally un-paradoxical nature of the Pope's teaching.

And that's it in a nutshell. Was the Pope a paradox? Sure, if you use worldly values as the standard. He was a paradox to a world that put its value in power and prestige, in wealth and material posessions, in self-satisfaction rather than self-sacrifice. If you're a political party that defines values to mean what wins votes, he was a paradox. If you're a corporate executive who looks at employees as units of commerce whose value is in helping to meet the bottom line, he was a paradox. If your job is to sell products regardless of, or in spite of, the harm they might cause to society, he was a paradox.

To the modern world, or large portions of it, he was a paradox. But then being a Christian has always meant being countercultural, moving against the tide. To live in this world and yet not be of the world is a paradox, if you measure it by worldly standards.

It was why people respected the Pope, and at the same time felt challenged by him. Rick Brookhiser once said of his George Washington biography Founding Father that if you had to reduce it to four words, they would be "He really meant it." People on both the right and left (perhaps the right more so) embraced John Paul, but there was often that moment of hesitation when they looked deeper into his thoughts and words and realized, "He really meant it."

So was the Pope's thinking paradoxical? Only for those who look at the small picture, who fail to realize that, as Shakespeare said, "There are more things in heaven and earth, Horatio,/ Than are dreamt of in your philosophy."

MH - Quick Reminder

For those of you in the St. Paul/Minneapolis area, St. Agnes Church will be remembering John Paul II with a Latin High Requiem Mass tomorrow (Tuesday) night, featuring the Twin Cities Catholic Chorale (our regular choir) doing Mozart's subline Requiem. Start time is 7:30 p.m., but if you're thinking of attending come early; the church is sure to be packed. Directions can be found here. This will be a wonderful way to honor and say goodbye to our beloved Holy Father.

MH - The Pope As Seen By Faithmouse

Faithmouse has some very moving, and very appropriate, drawings celebrating our late Holy Father. See them here. A very, very nice job, Dan! And everyone, check out his site frequently. A gifted artist using his gift and his art for the praise and glory of Our Lord.

MH - Is "Our World" a "Diverse" Blog?

Time for something a little lighter. Hadleyblogger Peter calls our attention to this article from Heather MacDonald at NRO on how the "diversi-crowd wants to police weblogs:"

Newsweek's technology columnist Steven Levy has declared that the lack of "diversity" among the web's most popular blogs requires corrective action. The goal? A blogosphere whose elite tier "reflects the actual population" — i.e., where female- and minority-written blogs are found among the top 100 blogs in the same proportion as females and minorities are found in the general population.

[...]

Keith Jenkins, a Washington Post photo editor, had warned during the conference, via e-mail, that the growth of blogging threatened minority gains in journalism. Whereas the mainstream media have gotten to "the point of inclusion," Jenkins wrote, the "overwhelmingly white and male American blogosphere [might] return us to a day where the dialogue about issues was a predominantly white-only one."

Levy's solution for women and minorities is a simple one: "'You have to post frequently . . . link prodigiously,' and, like one technology guru he describes, spend two hours daily writing your weblog and 'three more hours reading hundreds of other blogs.'"

First off, I'm going to admit that I don't spend that much time each day working on this blog. Sorry gang, but I don't. Of course, that could be because I'm a white male oppressior and therefore I don't have to work as hard to achieve such dominance.

But as MacDonald points out, there's a problem here:

How will the diversity-minded linker know the "identity" of a potential linkee? To be workable, a diversity-linkage program needs some sort of gatekeeper — precisely what the web has heretofore lacked. One can imagine something like a federal Digital Diversity Agency that would assign a diversity tattoo to each blog: a lavender pig, for example, signifying a white male blogger with an alternative sexual orientation. A mismatch between the diversity tattoo on a site and its content could trigger a federal audit to track down identity fraud. Let's say an allegedly black female site (tattooed with a black halo) canvassed technologies for sending humans to Mars. Regulators might find such content highly suspicious, since everyone knows that black females are supposed to write about black females.

Which brings us to Peter's question: Judie hasn't been posting too much lately; does this mean that I'm oppressing her somehow, preventing her from blogging in order to dominate the site myself? Do we need some kind of gatekeeper to make sure that our so-called "husband and wife" blog doesn't become too male-dominated? And shouldn't I be more careful about writing on issues that concern women?

For that matter, how do we even know that there is a Judie out there? For all anyone does know, I'm a lone wolf just pretending to have a wife who blogs. I could be committing some kind of identity fraud right before your eyes (or pixels, at any rate).

He jokes, of course, but you get the point of how ridiculous this is. Read the whole article for more. As Peter concludes, "It would be funny if it weren't so revealing."

MH - The Will of the Pope

First off, sorry we've been silent for the last few days. Circumstances beyond one's control, you might say. And tonight I don't have too much time either, but I didn't want you to think you'd been deserted...

Much has been written about the Pope's funeral yesterday, and I don't see the need to add much more to it, especially since I have nothing particularly original to add. Judie made the comment (which was later echoed by one of the CNN correspondents) that it seemed so strange to have this huge event at the Vatican and not to have John Paul there. He was present, of course, but in a different, transcendent way.

It was an overwhelming experience, particularly the "Santo, Santo!" chants. I don't think I've ever seen anything quite like it, and I doubt that anyone who saw it will ever forget it. I thought Cardinal Ratzinger's homily was supurb - exactly what a funeral homily should be (see this previous post on the problem with funeral orations). (Of course, I don't usually approve of sanctifying the deceased, but in this case I think we can make an exception...) As I listened I thought of a couple items I might want to consider at a future date, so we'll see. And I don't see how anyone could fail to be moved by the finale, the good-bye from the huge crowd to the Pope as his coffin was turned to face them for the last time, the bells tolling, the flags waving, people sharing one last moment with him. Were there many dry eyes out there?

But one thing I do want to discuss is the speculation, leaped upon by the MSM, that John Paul's will suggests he had at one time considered resignation. The section in question:

As the Jubilee Year progressed, day by day the 20th century closes behind us and the 21st century opens. According to the plans of Divine Providence I was allowed to live in the difficult century that is retreating into the past, and now, in the year in which my life reaches 80 years (octogesima adveniens), it is time to ask oneself if it is not the time to repeat with the biblical Simeon, Nunc Dimittis.

The reference is to the Canticle of Simeon, the prophet who had been promised that he would not be allowed to die before having seen the Christ. Upon meeting the baby Jesus following the Presentation, Simeon says "Lord, now lettest thou thy servant depart in peace, according to thy word; for mine eyes have seen thy salvation which thou hast prepared in the presence of all peoples, a light for revelation to the Gentiles, and for glory to thy people Israel." (Luke 2:29-32) George Weigel also references this Canticle in talking about the Pope at the time of the Jubilee.

My take on this is that the Pope, in quoting Simeon, is essentially saying, "Having reached the Jubilee, as I had desired for so long, there must be a temptation to feel like Simeon, to call it a day. And yet how can I, when there is so much to do, so much to be accomplished? Indeed, my greatest work may yet be ahead."

You can read a very good commentary on this from Phil Lawler at Catholic World News, who wonders the same thing:

Now, with the celebration of the Jubilee well underway, the Pope allows himself to wonder whether he has completed his primary mission.

But does that mean he considered resignation? Or did he think that, with his main work as Pontiff completed, he could now expect God to call him home-- and even pray for that release? Again, the text allows either interpretation.

Lawler concludes that the Pope did not consider resignation, regardless of how ambiguous the comments could appear. He stresses that the Pope's public comments subsequent to these written ones (which were apparently made in March 2000) indicate he "was determined to serve as Roman Pontiff for as long as he lived." A very, very good observation is made by in a comment to Lawler's post:

I definately read the Pope's resignation in these words. Resignation - total and complete - to Our Lord's Will. I can't imagine where anyone who knew John Paul could actually read that he was contemplating resigning as Pope from these words.

And I feel the same way. So keep this in mind, though I think many of you already have figured this out - just because you see or hear it in the MSM, that doesn't make it true. Especially when you're dealing with people who are, shall we say, a little out of their element. That doesn't make them bad or malicious - after all, you wouldn't want to ask me for an opinion on what's wrong with your car. It also doesn't mean that there is an elitist clique out there who has the answers to everything. But it does mean that knowledge is power, and the best way to understand what's going on out there is to educate yourself, as much as possible.

Plenty of other good stuff to come, and for the Hadleybloggers out there who've sent us material to use - we'll get to it! Check us out Monday for sure!

MH - The Poetry of John Paul

Cold. Runny nose. Cough. Night sweats. Maybe I'm telling you too much, but if it works for Lileks... ;) But just so I don't leave you empty-handed:

For those of you who've noticed the analysis on CNN by Vatican correspondent Delia Gallagher, you might be interested in a piece she wrote a little over a year for Inside the Vatican on the Pope's 33-page poem, "Roman Triptych: Meditations," which John Paul wrote shortly after his final trip to Poland, and which Gallagher saw as a possibly prophetic work. I knew very little about this particular poem until reading her article; this may simply have been stupidity on my part, but it seems as if this work of the Pope should have gotten more attention than it did. The Vatican certainly gave it a high degree of importance, as it was presented to the media and Curial cardinals by Cardinal Ratzinger himself.

Here is a portion of the poem excerpted by Gallagher:

He will stop your hand, when it is ready to strike that sacrificial blow...
He will not permit your hand to fall,
when in your heart it has already fallen.
Yes-your hand will stop in the air.
He Himself will stay it.
And from now on, the Hill of Moriah will wait --
For on this hill the mystery must be fulfilled.

Gallagher's analysis follows:

Is it too much to suggest that this passage, in addition to a reflection on an ancient blow that did not fall, is a prayer -- a supplication that God will again stop the hand that is ready to strike?

The last two lines of this stanza suggest not only the waiting period from Abraham to Jesus, but a waiting that continues in our time for the mystery to be fulfilled.

In the above stanza and the one that follows, the Pope reminds his reader of the significance of "these places" namely, Ur(Iraq) and Jerusalem (Israel).

The places that today are so troubled by war -- where man can be seen at his worst and where the destruction of man threatens -- are the very places where God fulfills his promises.

Thus it seems at once a supplication to man not to forget God and to God not to forget man.

There is also a section of the poem which can be interpreted as instructions by the Pope regardign the next conclave:

Another mysterious aspect of this poem, which must be read with more significance today than when the article was originally written, is that John Paul seems to be giving specific instructions to the cardinals as to what they must keep in mind when voting in the next conclave.

In essence, he seems to be telling the cardinals now, while alive, that they must allow the Holy Spirit to guide them when it comes time for them to vote, and not a human or political calculation.

The Pope begins by painting a dramatic picture for us of the upcoming election.

The cardinals will gather in the Sistine Chapel before the great frescoes of Michelangelo which depict the beginning and end of the world, he writes.

"Michelangelo's vision must then speak to them," the Pope writes. "They will find themselves between the beginning and the end, between the Day of Creation and the Day of Judgment. It is necessary that during the Conclave Michelangelo teach them."
Then he adds, with seeming urgency: "Do not forget: Omnia nuda et aperta sunt ante oculos Ejus ("All things are naked and open before His eyes")... He will teach you."

Has there ever been a pope like this before? There can't be any doubt that John Paul was a true mystic, and I'm beginning to agree with those who favor the next pontificate being a short one simply to give the Church time to review and assimilate all that John Paul has written.

Read the entire article here (registration may be required). (There is also Joseph Bottom's review of the published book, from the May First Things, in which he concludes that although the poem as a poem may be lacking in something, "Roman Triptych is not a poem so much as a doorway. Judged as a doorway, it is a serious and important construction, in whatever language one approaches it.") A fascinating discussion on what appears to be a fascinating work. I must admit that, the quality of news commentary on the Vatican being pretty uneven, I've found Delia Gallagher's work to be very good. She has been especially informative when it comes to correcting mistaken beliefs on the part of CNN commentators unfamilar with how the Vatican and the papacy operate. A Google search will produce more of her writing.

MH - The Word is Extraordinary

If CNN's Anderson Cooper used the word once yesterday, he must have used it a score of times in describing the ceremonies surrounding the transfer of the Pope's body to St. Peter's. There's no doubt it made an impression on Anderson - the entire events surrounding the Pope's death seem to have impacted him. As Judie pointed out, "He'll leave Rome a different man than he arrived."

For those of us who believe in the pomp and ceremony of Catholic tradition, it was a confirmation of why we feel that way. For the events yesterday were spectacular - moving, emotional, ultimately uplifting. As Cooper pointed out, these traditions have been going on for centuries, and probably will continue to do so; and there's something reassuring about that, especially in an era when informality reigns supreme. He often pointed out that each and every one of these gestures and rituals means something. Again, he would use the word "extraordinary." And it was, even for those of us used to seeing it on a more regular basis - the solumn procession with John Paul's body as the Litany of the Saints was chanted, the turning of the body to face the people one last time, the blessing of the body in St. Peter's with water and incense, and the immense crowds that continue to pour in from everywhere. Yesterday was something, and at this point one can only imagine the impact of the funeral on Friday.

I don't know much about Anderson Cooper, although I've always been inclined to like him personally. I don't know what kind of impact this has all made on him, and whether or not it will last once it's all over. But this week has been a reminder of the glory and the power of the Church. It reminds me of the story once told about priests walking into the poorest neighborhoods wearing their most glorious vestments, in order to show even the poorest and most illiterate that there was something important at work here, something that merited such pomp. This whole thing is having a great effect on everyone, and I find it hard to believe that tamborines, guitars, and Kumbaya would have had the same effect.

It is the richness of the Church, of her liturgy, of her music and her tradition, that lets everyone out there know that this is about something more than a man, more than the merely visible; it's about the One who's very much present, the One who's very, very important. Doesn't He deserve our very best? He's already got John Paul, and this week He's also receiving the best we have to offer.

MH - More on the Dignity of Death

You remember our friend Ethan, the one who courts death so lovingly in the comments he left on this blog? I wondered why Ethan was even reading our blog, and I figured he must have been on the hunt for any pro-life blogs, spewing his offensive thoughts wherever he could.

The sad part is that if Ethan, instead of hunting down conservatives, actually spent some time reading the blogs he infiltrated, he might have learned something. Witness this excellent article from Insight Scoop, a rebuttal to the ridiculous LA Times piece by Jack Miles on how JPII should have been a spokesman for Parkinson's rather than in the Gospel. Miles favorably quotes a letter from a sufferer which said, "[The Pope] is either in denial — or he is a control freak — when he could have been a spokesperson for PD. Of all people, he could have brought this ugly disease into the public view! But I guess he believes in suffering and not in science."

Yes, he believes in suffering. Not in cultivating suffering, in looking for it - but in embracing it, in walking with Christ on the Way of the Cross, in sharing His suffering for the redemption of man. Carl Olson's commentary on Miles' article concludes thustly:

All of this is sheer nonsense, revealing quite a bit about Miles while offering no insight into the thought and life of JPII. The Holy Father poured out his physical life spreading the Gospel and proclaiming the reality of eternal life (just read his writings, Mr. Miles!). Because JPII was convinced of God's existence, the claims of Jesus Christ, and the reality of salvation in the afterlife, he had no need to either hide from public view (who was he trying to impress? Op-ed writers? I doubt it) or to kill himself (God would take him from earth when the time was right). As he wrote in Evangelium Vitae: "The certainty of future immortality and hope in the promised resurrection cast new light on the mystery of suffering and death, and fill the believer with an extraordinary capacity to trust fully in the plan of God."

One wishes people like our friend Ethan would read something like this, instead of engaging in name-calling so often. But that's one reason why we keep putting this out here, why we keep praying for non-believers. And it's why we keep reading what others say, because it's the way we learn, the way we become more solid in our beliefs. One of the dichotomies of life is that if we don't teach, we don't learn. If we're successful we do it not from ego, but from modesty, for we can never take our own salvation for granted. We pray the Divine Mercy chaplet because we know our salvation ultimately depends on God's mercy for us, that salvation is a gift never merited by us, but freely given by Him.

Read these articles, become educated, and do not be afraid to challenge those who seek to spread darkness and deny the light. Our silence is their victory, their damnation (and the loss of any soul to the Devil) is a defeat for us. Conversion is our mission, and while we can't win all the time, we must always try. Many disbelieve or misunderstand the Culture of Life and the Dignity of Death; our Holy Father just finished giving his life to teach us what it all means. Let's show him that we were good students, and continue to be teachers of his message.

MH - The Pope I "Knew"

Pope John Paul was not the first pope I'd "known;" I was born during the reign of John XXIII, and between him and John Paul there were two other popes. But John Paul II was the first pope I'd "known" since my conversion to Catholicism nine years ago, and therein lies the story.

I was baptized a Presbyterian at Knox Presbyterian Church in Minneapolis. When I was a teen, I was confirmed a Congregationalist in the small town of Hancock, Minnesota. (I always liked to joke that Congregationalism was for Presbyterians who lived in a town with no Presbyterian church.) Unlike many Protestants, I don't recall any particular hatred or suspicion of Catholics. Perhaps that was because we weren't an overly religious family. We were believers, make no mistake, but we didn't attend church regularly. Had we done so, perhaps there would have been a stronger feeling there.

Even at a young age, the seeds must have been there. I remember when I was 10 or 11, telling a friend of mine that I envied the Catholics because they had outward gestures, such as the Sign of the Cross, to indicate their faith. "We don't have anything like that," I said. Where did I come up with something like that at that age? Must have been something I saw on TV. Something like the Midnight Masses I used to watch on TV on Christmas Eve. Why I chose the Mass I don't know; there were often other church services from which to choose. The church had abandoned Latin by that time (I'm not that old!), but in particular I remember a year in the early 70s watching the Mass from Chicago, and being intrigued with the cantor, dressed in a tuxedo, who was leading the congregation. I never liked folk music, so it must have been more formal than that, although it would have been around the right time for that kind of liturgical rubbish. Once again though, the seeds must have been planted.

When Pope Paul VI died in 1978, I was taken by the ceremony and the news coverage. Now, that might be explained by my being a news junkie in general, plus my absolute love of pomp and pagentry; but maybe there more to it than that. I watched the motorcade returning the Pope's body to the Vatican from Castel Gandalfo. I watched the funeral and the beginning of the conclave. I even read Fr. Andrew Greeley's columns from Rome that appeared in the St. Paul Pioneer Press. (Well, give me a break on that one; how was I to know that Greeley was a liberal, someone to whom I wouldn't give the time of day if I'd really known what he was up to!) I missed the election of John Paul I, however; like so many I was taken in by the confusion as to whether the smoke was black or white. NBC said it was black, meaning no pope, and so I left the house. When I returned, the new pope was standing on the balcony. I slapped my head; things like this didn't happen very often. When would I get another chance?

Sadly, it turned out to be the next month. Again I watched the coverage; only now we had moved into early autumn, and my freshman year at college. I lived at home in those years, and coming home after my only class of the day had ended early, my mother told me they'd elected a new pope, but hadn't announced the name yet. I turned on the TV and watched Peter Jennings covering it from St. Peter's Square - humorously, I thought that God had taken mercy on me and allowed me to see this one. John Paul II came out; my mom, who was in the other room, asked what kind of a man he looked like. "He looks different from the last one," I remember saying (or something like this), "but there's something about him - he looks like a good man."

I think this was when it really took hold. I watched the extensive coverage of the papal trip to America. (I watched most of the masses even though I might not have understood everything; I even chose to watch the Sunday mass rather than football, which at that time was really something for me.) I bought the book Pontiff, which told the story of the conclaves and the 1981 assassination attempt; I read Greeley's book The Making of the Popes 1978 (already starting to learn his agenda), and Martin's The Last Conclave (which I never really did get; if I read it now I probably would). I even asked for and got for Christmas Cheetham's Keepers of the Keys (a dense book; I have to admit I never got through it). That's a lot of Catholic reading for someone who wasn't a Catholic yet. And of course although National Review was never a Catholic magazine per se, there's no question it exposed me to even more Catholic thought from Catholic writers. I still didn't go to church regularly during those years; but whenever I did, it was usually a special occasion or with friends, and it was always to a Catholic church. I started to think that it might be nice to be Catholic, that this was something I could live with. For a brief time I considered the charge that Catholics worshipped false idols (mostly because of confession and the priest "father" thing), but even when I thought it might make it impossible for me to convert, I remember feeling it more with sadness and regret than anything else.

When Judie and I met and married, the situation began to change. Judie's family was Catholic, but she had left the church. She knew of my interest, however (I was probably talking about it frequently, as I do so many things; and it was probably getting on her nerves, as so many of my obsessions do), and to satisfy it she suggested we buy a copy of the then-new Catechism that had come out. We also bought Patrick Madrid's book Surprised by Truth, which told the conversion stories of new Catholics. I started watching the daily Mass on EWTN, and Mother Angelica after that. It was fascinating to think that this was a Church that had services more often than once a week.

To make a long story short, she read the books before I did, and thanks to the influence of JPII, Mother Teresa and Mother Angelica, she started to move back to the Church. And when she did, she brought me along as a willing participant. Nine years ago I had one of those big days that even priests get excited about - I celebrated my first confession, confirmation, first communion, and the blessing of our marriage in the Church, all on the same day. It was the biggest day dear old Father Pouliot had had in a long time!

I was fascinated with Catholicism, in many although not all ways because of John Paul. But did I ever say "I want to join the Church because of him?" Maybe not in so many words. And yet he was there all the time. A couple of years before I was to convert I told some friends at a party that he was the man I most admired in the world. I read books and articles about him and found how he was standing up to the forces of liberalism and modernism, and I liked it. I had an instant and immense respect for him because of his preaching on the "gospel of life." I started to read more about the Church's explaination on confession and birth control and while I didn't agree with it at first (that would come later), I respected it and understood why the Church taught it. John Paul II was a great man and a great pope; he changed the Church in many, many ways, mostly for the better. What he did for me personally was build a Church I felt I could join. Because of that, I took the time and effort to learn what the Church taught. I didn't become Catholic because of hero worship; I became Catholic because by watching John Paul, I knew what the Church stood for.

Was he perfect? Hey, he was human. Of course he wasn't. And neither is the Church. There were times, when confronting liturgical abuses or the priest sex scandal, when I was tempted to ask why the Holy Father wasn't doing more. Someone asked me that once, after Liturgiam authenticam came out - "Why doesn't he kick them out of the Church?" I thought about it for a moment, and finally came up with, "Perhaps he wants his successor to make the decision. To let him establish his own authority, instead of enforcing a decision he didn't make." That's just a theory of mine, but it would be like John Paul - not trying to avoid the decision, but feeling that it would be much more difficult for the next pope, with people saying, "Sure John Paul wanted it this way, but he's gone now; what's this new guy going to do?" Maybe I'm wrong, but once that thought came to me, I had no desire to second-guess the pope. As you've known from my writings, I didn't entirely agree with him on the death penalty, but that has more to do with the penal situation here than it does with JPII's general philosophy. As for the war in Iraq: I'm more inclined to think the war is just, but he'll probably be right about that as well.

Would I have come in to the Church had Paul VI still been pope? Would Judie have come back? I don't know. I heard an explanation on TV today that maybe comes as close as I can to describing it: when you meet your wife you're initially drawn in by her beauty, but it's her brains and her personality that keep you there. So it was with John Paul - his charisma reeled me in, his teachings (which were the teachings of the Church) were what made me a keeper. But that's kind of how a Fisherman operates, isn't it?

What I do know is that he was the pope when I converted, and for that he will always be my pope, the pope I love, the pope I "knew."

MH - Peter Jennings Lung Cancer Story

Peter Jennings of ABC news revealed today that he has lung cancer. I mention this in because of my post last month on Jennings and his longetivity - he anchored the ABC evening news for the first time in 1965. He will continue to anchor the news as his condition allows, but clearly ABC will need to start considering the possibility of a replacement at some point. ABC must be reeling from this news, coming as it did on top of last week's announcement that Ted Koppel will be leaving at the end of the year.

What does all this mean for the future of network news? NBC had Brian Williams in place for some time, but there is still no determination on a permanent anchor(s) to replace Dan Rather at CBS, and now the news about Jennings at ABC. Under the circumstances, will we see one or more of the networks reconsidering their commitment to a nightly news broadcast? Is this little more than an acknowledgement that cable news has taken over the dominant role in providing the story to viewers? It's been headed this way for some time, and even the start of the Iraq war did nothing to stem the tide.

Whatever the future holds, there is the present; and for Peter Jennings we wish all the best, and our prayers for a full and complete recovery.

MH - The Annunciation and John Paul II

Busy, busy day today. My apologies - we'll have more tomorrow. But a few thoughts on today, which is the transferred day of the Feast of the Annunciation (usually on March 25, which this year fell on Good Friday).

The Annunciation commemorates Mary's fiat, in response to the message from God transmitted by the angel Gabriel. At the early morning mass today, Fr. Fleming commented on the many apparent coincidences regarding John Paul's death - dying on the vigil of Divine Mercy Sunday, for example (more on that tomorrow). He said that today's feast may be another example of this coincidence, that is in fact no coincidence at all.

John Paul had a strong devotion to Mary, as we all know. He was left an orphan prior to the age of 20, and formed a close attachment to the Mother of God. It was Mary whom John Paul gave credit for having redirected the bullet that almost claimed his life in 1981. Therefore, it would only seem natural to link him with this feast day. But Fr. Fleming suggested we look closer, and I think it's well worth doing.

Mary questioned the angel closely - "How can this be?" - and made sure she understood exactly what the angel was saying before she said "fiat" - be it done to me according to thy word. But this wasn't the only fiat Mary displayed - as Delia Gallagher pointed out in her review of Passion of the Christ. "One understands why Mary is such a revered figure in Catholicism," she says, "not so much for her 'fiat' when told she would bear the Son of God -- that was the easy part -- but her 'fiat' in witnessing his suffering and crucifixion." In doing this, Mary reminds us that all Christians must share in the Way of the Cross.

She encourages us in other ways, too. At the wedding feast in Cana, for example - "Do whatever He tells you." Not only does she say fiat, she urges us to do the same. And this is the lesson we see in John Paul's life. He said fiat to God's call to the priesthood; fiat in the conclave in 1978; fiat to the suffering that would be part of the last twenty years of his life; and finally, I think, fiat to Christ when He came for him on Saturday night.

Catholics must be wary of over-sentimentalism, and the death of John Paul is ripe for such occasions. There is a temptation to read so many things into the timing and circumstances of his death. But as a learned scholar once said, when it comes to God there's no such thing as coincidence. As John Paul survived Friday and late into Saturday, many thought he might be determined to make it to Sunday, to the Divine Mercy Sunday which he had played such a large role in creating. Having hung on so long, it was - in a strange way - almost surprising when he died so late in the night, falling only a couple of hours short of Sunday morning. But at that, we are told that he celebrated the vigil of Divine Mercy; and perhaps it's not too much of a stretch to think that he left us when he did so that he could be with St. Faustina, helping direct us to the way of the Divine Mercy of Our Blessed Lord.

Today is all about fiat; the fiat of Mary and the fiat of John Paul. Take a moment and think about what God is asking you to do. And, in the words of John Paul, be not afraid. Be not afraid to say fiat when He calls your name.

MH - Goodbye, Good Friend

You don't need me to tell you that the Holy Father has died; I'm sure you can come up with better news sources than me. I'll have more to write on this later, when I've had more time to compose my thoughts. Even though we've been, in a sense, waiting for this for the last couple of days, it is not something you take lightly.

But it has been a dramatic couple of days. Commentators seem struck by the fact that so many young people were in St. Peter's Square. I'm not surprised; so many "latch-key" kids feel deserted by their parents, for money or material goods or jobs; young adults feel betrayed by their superiors at work; many more feel their political leaders speak out of both sides of the mouth at the same time. It would be no surprise that in the Pope they would see someone who was honest with them, spoke to them, cared about them, loved them. In him they saw a mirror of Christ, which is what they were supposed to see.

One man said he felt as if his father had died a second time. Walter Rogers on CNN said that the Pope's death leaves the world a much diminished place. We have all been privileged to live in an era of such greatness, and to have been able to appreciate that at the time. Perhaps we didn't appreciate it enough; that's our loss.

The president spoke well, as have so many. I imagine there's been some excellent commentary from the blogosphere; I haven't had time to look much, but I'll try to find some for you in the days ahead. We'll be back on Monday unless events dictate additional commentary, but Jonah Goldberg at NRO has what I think is an appropriate way to leave it for now: "What a glorious man. We won't see another like him and let us hope we won't need another like him as much as we needed him."

MH - "The Tragedy Is Ours"

The dependable Rod Dreher at The Corner, quoting the Washington Post's Roberto Suro in a PBS documentary on JPII from a few years back. As Rod says, Suro is critical on balance, but here's an excerpt from what he calls the "money quote":

At the end of the day, when you look at this extraordinary life and you see all that he's accomplished, all the lives he's touched, the nations whose history he's changed, the way he's become such a powerful figure in our culture, in all of modern culture--among believers and not--taking all of that into account, you're left with one very disturbing and difficult question. On the one hand, the Pope can seem this lonely, pessimistic figure--a man who only sees the dark side of modernity, a man obsessed with the evils of the twentieth century, a man convinced that humankind has lost its way. A man so dark, so despairing, that he loses his audiences. That would make him a tragic figure, certainly.

On the other hand, you have to ask, is he a prophet? Did he come here with a message? Did he see something that many of us are missing? In that case, the tragedy is ours.

MH - The Extraordinary Man

Had to add another comment, this one in an email to Jonah Goldberg at The Corner:

"I think I will take the time to grieve Pope John Paul II. Because it is human to do so, yes, but also because after being constantly reminded over the past couple of weeks how less than ordinary most of us are, it makes me sad and lonely to lose someone that is extraordinary."

It reminds me of a comment made by the wife of Senator Robert Taft when he was running for president in 1952. Asked if her husband were a "common man" (the "common man" being a preferred mode for one seeking the presidency, even then as now), Mrs. Taft responded, "I should hope not!"

Which is true. Greatness requires, if not demands, uncommonness. The Holy Father has been extraordinary, uncommon, a giant in a world of men.

MH - More on the Meaning of Suffering

Marc Thiessen has a nice piece on suffering at NRO, on how JPII is giving all of us a final lesson in the last hours of his pontificate. Excerpt:

In carrying on, John Paul also offers us a precious gift: his suffering. It is hard to see him suffer. But this pope does not ask for relief from his sufferings. To the contrary, a bishop once told me that the pope used to refuse medication precisely because it interfered with his suffering. He has a mystical relationship with his suffering, offering it up for us, and for the whole world — a world that increasingly embraces the culture of death, euthanasia, and the abortion of disabled fetuses, because it mistakenly believes there is no greater moral good than relief from suffering. In bearing his pain, John Paul says to us, in union with the Apostle Paul, "I rejoice in my sufferings for your sake, and in my flesh I complete what is lacking in Christ's afflictions."

[...]

In his book The Problem of Pain, C.S. Lewis wrote, "You would like to know how I behave when I am experiencing pain, not just writing books about it....I will tell you;
I am a great coward." Most of us are. So our world needs this struggling pope, who inspires millions of frail and elderly people. We need his example, which affirms the continuing value of every human person who feels isolated by illness and abandoned by a society. And we need to be reminded that we all have responsibilities to the weakest among us — to help them live in dignity, and to value the gift of their presence, whatever their condition, at every stage of their lives.

MH - Further Thoughts

Crowds continue to gather outside the Vatican, and a couple of reporters have commented that the crowd's mood, while somber, also has a trace of joy to it. This mirrors the serene mood that we've been told the Pope has had.

I couldn't help but think that the crowd had turned out to wish the Pope well, a safe trip, as if they were saying "Bon Voyage! Remember us when you get there!" When he does, I'm sure he'll continue to pray for us, as he has here on earth. It will be his way of sending us a postcard - "Wish you were here!"

MH - Watching the Vatican

At this point - nearly 3pm on Friday afternoon, the Pope is still alive. I've been fortunate enough today to watch the continuing TV coverage of his condition. It has been a scene of indescribable drama - the crowds gathering at the Vatican, the cameras panning to the windows of the papal apartment, the monstrance being shown on Vatican television prior to the Mass for the Pope late this morning as CNN's Vatican expert choked up, the bulletins continuing to run on the bottom of the screen as the Mass continued. For a time the rumors were strong that the Pope had died, but those proved to be premature.

Sheppard Smith on Fox had perhaps the best comments, comparing the Holy Father's situation to the Terri Schiavo crisis. Said Smith, it was as if the Pope was saying, "This is what I mean" -this is the Christian way of death, to let God decide when and where. Smith paraphrased the Pope's teaching, that suffering is a grace given to us to make us worthy of our salvation.

An update just shown on TV quotes the Vatican as saying, "This evening, Christ opens the door to the Pope." It's been a moving day, a day to join our prayers to the Holy Father's suffering, to pray that God's will be done. Everyone dies eventually, but it is in death that JPII is our Pope, more than ever.

MH - It's Time to Play Family Feud

News item: Families continue to feud after Schiavo death.

Now imagine this story:

German and Jewish leaders continue to feud today, trading accusations in the wake of what some are calling a holocaust. In the meantime, some wonder if Jewish leaders Ellie Weisel and Simon Wiesenthal are "agitating" and "stirring up" segments of public opinion.

Can you imagine it? Nope, I can't either.

MH - Allow Me a Moment of Personal Bitterness...

There's no truth to the rumor that Clint Eastwood was down in Pinellas Park, Florida today scouting out location shots for his next movie.

In case you're wondering, this is not black humor at Terri's expense. It's bitter commentary at Clint Eastwood's expense, and at the rest of the pro-death crowd. Hope that explanation wasn't too obvious.

There. I'm better now.

MH - "Born Toward Dying"

A tip of the hat to K-Lo for steering us toward this excellent meditation on death by Fr. Richard John Neuhaus - a man who himself once stared down death. Can't find an excerpt; the whole piece is too interrelated and deep to cut it into pieces. Just read it. Death is inevitable; with death comes rebirth (we pray) into a new and eternal life. That doesn't mean we go out of our way to seek it.

MH - Responding to the Culture of Death

If you page down a little, you'll find a comment by Ethan, who from the tone of his message probably wouldn't want to be called a Hadleyblogger. My response to him is in the comments section, and will probably be there by the time you read this. (I forgot to mention to him that Ralph Nader and Jesse Jackson both supported Terri; I hope that doesn't burst his bubble too much.) I also hope he answers, and some of the rest of you join in, because I think there's a real opportunity for discussion here, and perhaps the chance for some of us to explain our beliefs more fully.

In the meantime, an excellent comment from Blogodoxy. A large excerpt:

I find it heartbrakingly instructive that the Holy Father is teaching the entire world the sanctity not only of life but of suffering centered in God. While Terri Schiavo's life was devalued by many, it was valued by her parents, family and friends, the Pope and the Vatican, and a great many people in Terri's own country. Whereas Terri's death advocates have not moved a finger to share Terri's struggle--and will stand to make parasitic if lucrative deals by telling the story of how they made her die--the Holy Father has, by his own very public struggles, placed himself side-by-side with Terri, and suffered with her.

But not even Terri's executioners could mask the reality of the life that was hers and the enormity of the evil that has been done against her. We know this, and it is illuminated for us by His Holiness, John Paul.

God in his providence has woven together the end-of-life struggles of Terri and the Holy Father. One had no choice in the matter, and was put to death too soon. The other has freely embraced suffering, and offers himself as a living sacrifice. The suffering of both is redeemed in the Passion of our Lord and Savior Jesus Christ.

It is instructive for us that God has done so. Let us treasure these things in our hearts.

I've copied most of the post, but I suggest you go here to read it all, and then read more from this thoughtful and well-written blog.

MH - More on Terri

Sorry for the flurry of writing, but I've been out of the house and away from the computer for most of the day. There has, as always, been some excellent writing on Terri today, and I've always been quite proud to link to my fellow bloggers, who so often can say it better than I can.

Shrine of the Holy Whapping has some pertinent thoughts on forgiveness. Dawn Eden talks about "Defining Humanity Down" in a story that should not be missed. The editorial at National Review Online "Killed by Euphemisms" reminds us that Orwell was right - it's not what you do, but how you describe it. “Next timeit will be easier. It always is.” If that doesn't make you shudder...

There are more, many more, and as I get to them, I'll give you a heads-up.

MH - Pray for the Pope

Someone on CNN just reminded us that the Pope is the comeback kid, after all, so don't rule him out yet. Very true, and also true that receiving the Last Rites (Annointing of the Sick) doesn't necessarily mean that his condition is imminently fatal.

Nevertheless, continue your prayers for him, that God will be gentle with him, that our Blessed Mother will console him, that the Saints will be with him no matter what happens, and that God's will be done.

MH - Rest in Peace

Terri Schiavo has died, and the peace which eluded her in life as finally come to her. In the midst of this heartbreak, I can't think of anything better than to recall the words of St. Augustine: "For God judged it better to bring good out of evil than not to permit any evil to exist." We must fall back on the words of the good Saint, because otherwise what has happened seems to have no meaning at all.

Why did this happen, and what does this mean for the unborn, the disabled, the sick, the elderly? We scramble for meaning, and we wonder what the future holds for ourselves and our loved ones. We wonder why God allowed this to happen, why He didn't change the minds of the judges who heard the case, why He didn't strike Michael Schiavo or his attorney dead. These are gut feelings, visceral desires, bitter herbs. They're understandable, and God will forgive us for having them, but still we must put our trust in the words, inspired by God, which Augustine spoke. (See more here for St. Augustine on faith, hope and love.)

"For God judged it better to bring good out of evil . . ." Will we ever know what that good is? Perhaps, perhaps not. Not in our lifetime, that is, although I'm confident we will find out should we reach Heaven. On the other hand, there's no question that many people, including many of us bloggers, have been brought together in a way we wouldn't have if not for Terri. The entire issue of medical treatment for the disabled and ill has been brought to a very high profile, and I don't think it will be possible to put that horse back in the barn. I've long thought that people were energized in an unprecedented way from The Passion of the Christ, and I think we see that energy being displayed here, in the efforts which total strangers undertook on behalf of Terri and her family.

"For God judged it better to bring good out of evil than not to permit any evil to exist." To deny this is to deny the power of God, power that has no limits. We've been guilty so often in the past of putting limits on God, of seeing situations as "too big" for Him to handle. Whether talking about selling a house or finding a job or forgiveness of sins, we think it's too much for God. Now really - for One who created the heavens and the earth, do you really think you can put limits on Him?

Therefore, don't put limits on God - put your trust in Him instead. Trust His saints, who assure us that there is a reason to this apparent madness. Trust in Him, and cooperate with Him. Cooperate by prayer, by looking at the ways in which we live our lives, by continuing to preach and teach and be a witness to our faith. Cooperate by offering our sufferings to Him, by joining Him on the Cross, by joining in His redemptive work.

One last thought. There may be a danger in sanctifying Terri Schiavo in the days to come, and we don't want to be guilty of presumption. I don't know much about Terri's life, whether she was a good person or not. I'm assuming, from what I've read and heard, that she was; but ultimately it doesn't really matter. I'm not trying to be cold by saying that, but the fact is that we're talking about the dignity of the human, and whether we're talking about good or bad, Catholic or Protestant or stone-cold disbeliever - that dignity exists. It's a real thing, a thing that knows no bounds. Terri Schiavo was denied that dignity. We've heard people talk about "dying with dignity," but that's not what happened here.

As I write this post, I'm listening to the news bulletins on the Holy Father's health. He's running a high fever, his blood pressure has dropped. Some sources say he's been given the Last Rites. The media death watch, crass as it sounds, has started. The Pope's long Way of the Cross seems to be nearing an end.

Here is a man who with his life provides us the definition of the phrase "dignity of life." In his words, in his actions, and ultimately in his life - and his inevitable death. He has been and continues to provide us with his living example of how to live and how to die. Remember how just after the O.J. verdict, when the country was on the verge of being torn in two over racial issues, the Holy Father made a trip to America? One of the most vivid recollections I have of that trip was an editorial cartoon that showed the country as a mass of hate and divisiveness, and the Pope moving through the country leaving a path of whiteness in his wake. In the same way that our stained garments are washed clean in the Blood of Christ, the Pope was bringing a sense of God's dignity to a country in dire need of it, and we were made better for it. So is it a coincidence that both of these stories, Terri Schiavo and the Pope's, are coming to a head at the same time? I think not.

"For God judged it better to bring good out of evil than not to permit any evil to exist." Don't try to understand it, just go with the flow. God's flow is a good one indeed.

Requiescat in pace, Terri.

MH - Are There Lasting Effects from Terri Schiavo?

From Jay Nordlinger's column on NRO today, mostly regarding Terri:

I am asked — by readers — whether I think the Bushes have done enough. The answer is no. I am further asked whether Governor Jeb should go for the (Bill)
Bennett option: Do what it takes to feed Mrs. Schiavo, risk impeachment and jail. Yes. There is more to being an American — and more to being a leader — than following the edicts of judges.

Hear, hear! And another:

To continue to ramble: We are told that, no matter what, this debate is "agonizing," "anguishing," etc. No, it isn't. I do not believe that the Schiavo matter is a close call. There are hard cases in this country, and the world, and this isn't one of them. If Terri Schiavo must be starved to death — dehydrated, whatever — then patients in other circumstances have no chance whatever.

Mrs. Schiavo has parents willing to feed her and watch over her. No one else need lift a finger. Terri Schiavo's continued existence is no skin off anyone else's nose. No one need bestir himself; no one has to visit; everyone can just go on doin' his thing: drinkin', buyin' Lotto tickets, chasing the neighbor's daughter — whatever. People can go on studying Shakespeare or exploring Patagonia. Terri's parents ask for nothing except that their daughter not be starved to death.

Not all of his correspondents agree with him (he's receiving the usual amount of hate mail that supporters of Terri have been getting), but here's a very interesting comment he received from an emailer:

With the deluge of mail you get, I doubt you'll read this, but I'll feel better for saying it. This case has been eating away at my heart. For the first time, even after eight years of Bill Clinton, I want to say I'm ashamed to be an American. . . . Even people in my own party seem more inclined to gripe about state sovereignty.

As I said earlier, I wouldn't be a bit surprised if something bad happened to this country because of the way its agencies have handled the Schiavo case, and I predict it's going to become harder and harder to get Americans like the gentleman above to really believe that it's a country worth fighting for.

I like reading Nordlinger, not just because of his music reviews (which are excellent), but because of columns like this, which really hit at the core of this issue. And I much prefer his column to today's by Jonah Goldberg, entitled "Conservatism isn't dying with Terri Schiavo":

Whatever you think of the legislative branch's involvement, it's doubtful the issue will be a political albatross for the GOP any more than, say, the Elian Gonzales scandal permanently tarnished the Democrats. Indeed, recall that the Clinton impeachment drive was far more deleterious for the GOP's standing in the polls over a far longer period of time, and if that effort did permanent damage to the Republican party, it's hard to find today. The federal government is run by Republicans for as far as the eye can see.

Now in fairness to Goldberg, he's been pretty good on this issue. But as I wrote yesterday, I'm really getting tired of people allowing labels to dictate their thinking. He may be right that the federal government is run by Republicans, but to that I say "so what?" This just adds fuel to the fire of those who say that Republicans and Democrats are just flip sides of the same coin. If you think this country is going to hell in a handbasket, you probably also don't see that the Republican majority is doing anything to prevent it.

To recap, you can be morally consistant in your thinking without restricting yourself to an ideological tagline. If "conservatives" can't figure this out - and here I'm talking about the conservatives who are putting economics or federalism or whatever excuse they want ahead of saving this woman's life, who seem to think the judicial tyranny is sacrosanct enough that they shy away from engaging in hand-to-hand combat over it - then perhaps, to coin the phrase by Emmett Tyrrell, it's time that there is a conservative crack-up.

MH - Quick Takes

Terri Schiavo certainly has brought together some interesting groups, hasn't she? Click here for comments from Ralph Nader, and here for what Jesse Jackson has to say. Kind of puts the lie to Boston Globe columnist Cathy Young's comment that the religious right is "about as close to a Taliban as you can have in modern American society. These are people who really do want the state to enforce their vision of 'what God wants.'"

In other news, here's the latest on that so-called "Talking Points" memo purporting to show the Republicans using Terri for political gain. Seems that it might the other side who might be up to tomfoolery. Didn't Dan Rather teach these people anything?

Here's an item on the gestapo - whoops, I mean police - preventing a priest from giving Terri Communion.

GetReligion also has a very good story which talks about the pro-death crusade, and includes observations from Jesse Walker at Reason an the coming scenario:

The picture was of a soft, suffocating, ever-evolving consensus between doctors and medical ethicists to refuse to offer treatment to ever more patients whose chances they judge to be futile -- and not in the classical understanding of the word.

"Instead," the nurse wrote, some medical ethicists now "argue for a new definition of futility to overrule patients and/or families on a case-by-case basis based on the doctor's and/or ethicist's determination of the 'patient's best interest.'"

And K-Lo at NRO has the growing trend toward infant euthenasia - didn't want to leave the kids out of all this.

Fortunately we still have the Holy Father's heroic example to show us the joy, the mystery, the dignity of life.

MH - Blood on the Fingers

You’ve just come face-to-face with a murderer.

He may not be a threat to the public at large, but he has killed already and he might kill again, if necessary, to protect his secret.

You know that secret, and he knows that you know.

You could call the police, have him taken into custody, but you know there probably isn’t enough evidence to convict him. But even if there was, there are other people you have to think of, people who would be hurt by what might come out at the trial – disclosures that could ruin reputations and destroy lives, needlessly and perhaps beyond repair. Information that’s better left forgotten, lost in the mists of time.

Oh, one more thing I might have forgotten to mention – this murderer you’re face-to-face with? You’re armed, and he isn’t. His hands are up, and he’s wondering if we can’t just forget the whole thing.

So what do you do?

I suspect most of us have a real reluctance to kill, even in a case like this. There’s that self-defense thing, for one. Even though you could probably make a case that the police would buy, there’s something deeply ingrained in our moral psyche against shooting an unarmed man.

On the other hand, as I mentioned before, there are real doubts that a conviction could be obtained. You may know what the truth is, but that’s not the same thing as persuading a jury beyond a reasonable doubt. If he’s tried and acquitted, not only you but a lot of other people could be in real danger. And then there are those others you’re worried about, the ones who’d be hurt by a trial regardless of the result. So clearly there’s a need for some kind of action – something has to be done.

I’ve read my fair share of murder mysteries over the years, and one popular method of resolution to this situation is to “allow” the murderer to commit suicide. There are a lot of reasons why this seems a neat, tidy solution. While you may be worried that a jury won’t convict, the murderer may be just as worried about his own reputation. If he’s an important businessman or a prominent member of the community, for example, he may well prefer death to disgrace. To him, the results of the trial are irrelevant. Looking at it that way, you might be able to convince yourself that you’re offering him a way out.

You might be able to appeal to his better side. Justice may be screaming out that he needs to face the consequences, but perhaps he’s as worried about the other people that would be hurt – family, friends, loved ones – as you are. It might not take much prodding on your part to make him see things that way, to come to the conclusion that this way would be the least harmful to everyone.

And then there’s the big one, the one that appeals to us more than any of the others – it gets the blood off our hands. After all, if he kills himself, we can’t really be responsible for murder, can we? It wasn’t us who held the gun, who pulled the trigger. His death seems to serve some kind of cosmic justice, especially when it comes at his own hand, leaving you in the clear.

This seems to have happened to many of the great detectives at one time or another – Ellery Queen, Archie Goodwin, Hercule Poirot, to name a few. In these situations they’ve either given the murderer the gun and left the room (“You know what to do…”), deliberately put them in a position where suicide becomes the only option, or allowed the guilty party to ingest some type of poison without making any attempt to stop them. Did they do the right thing? And what would you do if you were in their shoes?

Now, I know what you’re thinking. Hadley, this is crazy. How many of us are ever likely to be in this situation? You might as well be asking us what we’d do if we were President of the United States.

True. But before you dismiss this little exercise as the product of an overactive imagination, let’s take a look at it in terms of our moral teaching. I think that by putting ourselves in this position (unlikely though it may be), and asking what we’d do if we were there, we might be able to learn something – about ourselves, about the moral law.

Frankly, I don’t know what the right answer is. I’ve described the most extreme situation, but only to make a point. And the point is that by allowing someone to commit suicide, you’re not taking putting yourself in the clear. You may not have blood on your hands, but it’s certainly on your fingers.

By allowing someone to commit suicide you’re attempting to shift the responsibility from you to them. You’re telling yourself that it was their choice, setting aside the fact that you’ve left them with no other. After all, we're talking about a murderer here. It's pretty easy tell yourself that through their actions they're "asking for it."

More important, you’re allowing them to commit mortal sin. True, you might tell yourself the murder already took care of that. That’s right, but murder, no less than any other sin, is forgivable. Our Lord does not put you in a situation from which you have no means of escape. By forcing (or allowing) them to commit suicide, you’re removing from them the right to seek forgiveness. You’re foreclosing on their options. In other circumstances, the legal term would be “aiding and abetting.”

In an earlier post on the death penalty I said one of the features of having an execution date staring you in the face was that it could serve to focus your mind, lead you to conversion and forgiveness, give you the hope of ultimate salvation. By contributing to someone’s death through suicide, you take away all of those options. To think that you bear no responsibility for what happens to them is to deny that you’re part of the body of Christ here on earth.

There, that was fun, wasn’t it? Fun because we probably won’t ever have to face it.

But now let’s change the plot just a little bit.

Instead of a murderer, you’re in a hospital room with a critically ill patient. Maybe terminal, maybe not. But they’ve had it, they can’t take the pain and suffering anymore. And they’re asking you to help them end it all.

What’s the difference? It saves the family from misery and prohibitive expense. It saves the patient from unbearable suffering, suffering that doesn’t do anyone any good. And it’s a whole lot easier to help them die than to simply kill them yourself, isn’t it?

There are some other differences, of course. For one, an increasing number of countries and states are assuring you that you don’t have to worry about prosecution if you do this. No need to create any complicated excuse like “self defense.” For another, those in authority – the state, the doctors, maybe both – might even say, “Don’t worry about it – we’ll take care of it for you.” Nice and easy does it. If only our other scenario was that neat and uncomplicated.

Of course, there is that moral responsibility thing, isn’t there?

To tell you the truth, when I started this post I had no idea where it was going to wind up. I just had this interesting idea, and I thought it might be worth exploring. But one thing I know for certain – no matter how satisfying it might be when it happens in the pages of a thriller, “helping” a killer commit suicide, regardless of how it’s done, can’t be morally justified.

And if that’s the case, I don’t see how it could be justified when you’re talking about someone who’s guilty only of being ill. Even if they’re “asking for it,” even if you’re able to convince yourself that they mean it, you’ll find, as did Lady Macbeth, that there’s no way to get their blood off your fingers.

MH - The Role of Faith in America

Hadleyblogger Mike calls our attention to Sunday's edition of NBC News' Meet the Press. The topic: Faith in America. Not surprisingly, the discussion focused on the Schiavo case. Forthwith, an excerpt from a very interesting exchange between Tim Russert and Senator Joe Lieberman:

MR. RUSSERT: Senator Lieberman, your Republican colleague from Connecticut in the House, Christopher Shays, had this to say. "This Republican Party of Lincoln has become a party of theocracy. ... There are going to be repercussions from this vote [on Schiavo's constitutional rights]. There are a number of people who feel that the government is getting involved in their personal lives in a way that scares them."

You agree with that?

SEN. JOSEPH LIEBERMAN, (D-CT): I don't. But that's a very credible and respectable opinion for Chris to take. See, I think--and Chris was there on the floor of the House, so maybe he heard in the debate some things that I didn't hear following it from a distance. The fact is that, though I know a lot of people's attitude toward the Schiavo case and other matters is affected by their faith and their sense of what religion tells them about morality, ultimately as members of Congress, as judges, as members of the Florida state Legislature, this is a matter of law. And the
law exists to express our values.

I have been saying this in speeches to students about why getting involved in government is so important, I always say the law is where we define the beginning of life and the end of life, and that's exactly what was going on here. And I think as a matter of law, if you go--particularly to the 14th Amendment, can't be denied due process, have your life or liberty taken without due process of law, that though the Congress' involvement here was awkward, unconventional, it was justified to give this woman, more than her parents or husband, the opportunity for one more chance before her life was terminated by an act which was sanctioned by a court, by the
state.

These are very difficult decisions, but--of course, if you ask me what I would do if I was the Florida Legislature or any state legislature, I'd say that if somebody doesn't have a living will and the next of kin disagree on whether the person should be kept alive or that is whether food and water should be taken away and her life ended that really the benefit of the doubt ought to be given to life. And the family member who wants to sustain her life ought to have that right because the judge really doesn't know, though he heard the facts, one judge, what Terri Schiavo wanted. He made a
best guess based on the evidence before him. That's not enough when you're
talking about aggressively removing food and water to end someone's life.

MR. RUSSERT: You would have kept the tube in?

SEN. LIEBERMAN: I would have kept the tube in.

A courageous statement by Lieberman both morally and legally, covering the 14th Amendment question which others have raised. Now, contrast that with the statements below from Fr. Robert Drinan, who from 1971-81 also served as a member of the U.S. House of Representatives from Massachusetts:

MR. RUSSERT: Father Drinan, do you think it was appropriate for Congress to be involved in this matter?

REV. ROBERT DRINAN: No, I don't. I think it's rather well settled at the state level, and it's rather well settled also in Catholic theology. I would recommend that the viewers look at the Web site of the Catholic Hospital Association. For years, they have been developing a coherent philosophy on this matter and the Holy See in the last year seem to have been a bit more conservative, which is understandable. It's a terrible, terrible, agonizing thing. But I think that all the judges that heard it, 20, 25 judges, we have the most certainty that we can have in this difficult situation.

MR. RUSSERT: I want to read something that you said to The Washington Post in
2003: "Catholics have no right to impose their views on others. Even if they say homosexual conduct is unfitting for a Catholic, they have no right to impose that on the nation."

If you believe that homosexuality is immoral or that abortion is the taking of a life, or that you believe very strongly that Terri Schiavo should remain on a tube, are you not honor-bound as a political figure to try to, in effect, bring about that result, if it's a firmly held motional belief?

REV. DRINAN: Yes and no. Go back to Vatican II. Three thousand bishops agonized over this, and at the end of the day, they said that the church should never seek to impose its views. They should not have any shadow of coercion, renouncing 20 centuries of the church dominating the scene. So I think that it's a different world, and we respect everybody else and there's lots of things that are immoral that should not be illegal.

Now, lest anyone get the idea that Fr. Drinan always articulates the Catholic position, we should note that when he was serving in the House, he practically wrote the manual on how a Catholic politician could be pro-abortion. (Notice how he suddenly says these things should be handled "at the state level." Wonder if he felt that way about Roe v. Wade?) More recently, as Fr. Richard John Neuhaus reminds us in the April edition of First Things, he “gained public attention by his vigorous opposition to a ban on partial birth abortion, also known as live birth abortion.” Fr. Drinan says it’s not appropriate for a public official to let his religious beliefs influence his stands. Looking at Fr. Drinan’s record, it’s difficult to see how he lets his religious beliefs influence any part of his life.

And let’s look again at that last quote: “Go back to Vatican II. Three thousand bishops agonized over this, and at the end of the day, they said that the church should never seek to impose its views. They should not have any shadow of coercion, renouncing 20 centuries of the church dominating the scene.” Granted, but there’s a huge difference between the Catholic Church “telling” Congress what to do, and individual representatives, informed by their Catholic beliefs, voting to do something. At least I thought it was a huge difference, but apparently the subtleties have escaped the good Father.

Yes, I know that’s rather uncharitable, but once again we have to remember that it is only though our public actions that we give others the opportunity to draw conclusions about us. What Fr. Drinan has told people in the confessional may well be responsible for saving hundreds of lives, and in the box he may be a shining example of Catholic charity. But, as I’ve said before, we have to live our lives according to our beliefs, and that includes the public lives of public servants. And you gotta believe something. Evidentially Fr. Drinan believes the Constitution of the United States, or the platform of the Democratic Party, makes that impossible. I do not.

But that’s getting a little far afield (I do seem to have that problem, don’t I?). Here’s another exchange:

(Videoclip) PRES. JOHN F. KENNEDY: Let us go forth to lead the land that we love, asking his blessing and his help, but knowing that here on Earth, God's work must truly be our own. (End videotape)

MR. RUSSERT: "Here on Earth, God's work must truly be our own," Father. That's politics and religion together in a very clearly stated way.

REV. DRINAN: And I think that it--we all agree with that. The problem is when some religions say that you have to impose in the law our particular beliefs.

Yes, but once again Fr. Drinan has it all wrong. An example of what he’s talking about might be if the Catholic Church lobbied to have divorce outlawed because the Church doesn’t accept it, or pushed to have the Immaculate Conception made a public holiday. That’s an example of enforcing our “particular beliefs.” Last time I checked, though, murder wasn’t a particular belief of any particular denomination or sect. I haven’t been watching much TV lately though, so maybe I missed something.

Anyway, don’t listen to Fr. Drinan. It’s much more interesting to listen to Sen. Lieberman answering this question later in the show (we should also note that he said the Congress missed having Fr. Drinan there):

MR. RUSSERT: But is there a risk where politicians will say, "We must ban gay
marriage because God wills it? We must ban abortion because God wills it. We must not drill in the arctic wildlife because Adam and Eve say no"? Is there a risk in that?

SEN. LIEBERMAN: Well, I think that people have--this is another part of the First Amendment, everybody has a right to petition their government and to petition it in terms that are relevant to themselves. And some of that will be faith-based, some of it will be totally secularly based sense of justice or morality. I mean, the answer to the question that you posed to Father Drinan in the end is the democratic process will decide, Congress will decide, the courts will decide. But I think that the public square is greatly strengthened and enriched when people are prepared to speak, not just about secular notions of justice, but about the moral sense that our faith gives us. And again, I want to say that to me that is not un-American, that is very American. We are--our Constitution says we don't establish a religion, but it also says everybody has freedom of religion, and everybody has the right to speak their mind. And if your mind is faith-based, God bless you. Speak your mind.

Speak your mind. I like that. Unfortunately, not enough people share that opinion.

Of course, Lieberman has been wrong a lot in his political career (take the 2000 campaign, for example), but you have to give the man his due when he says something like this. And even if you don’t agree with everything he says here, it’s thought-provoking at the very least. There's also some other good stuff from other panelists. Mike says it’s essential reading, and I’m inclined to agree with him. Read the entire transcript here.

MH - Pope May Get Feeding Tube

Via AP. As Judie said, "How ironic."

MH - The Meaning of Labels

I've been reading The Corner at NRO this morning, looking at the emails some of their writers are getting because of their support for Terri Schiavo. Here's an excerpt from one: "You have exposed yourself as shill for the Christian Right. Where's the sanctity of marriage now you hypocrite?" And another: You are sadistic. It is none of your business that the husband wants to treat his wife like a human, while you prefer to treat her like a bunch of bones. No decent person would treat a sick dog like that . . . There is dignity in life, there must be dignity in death."

Now, one is at a loss as to how exactly to think about people like this. My first thought would be to ask why in the world these people are reading NRO in the first place? To have this kind of mindset seems kind of incompatible with the general philosophy of National Review. (The writers at NRO don't all agree on Schiavo, but at least they're intelligent and civil about it.) I know that there are people who read what "the other side" writes so they can keep in touch with the thinking of "the enemy camp," but for my money these are the kind of people who have way too much time on their hands.

There's a possibility, of course, that they're being provocative, playing devil's advocate, trying to elicit some kind of response. Now, that may be a generous assessment of them, I don't know. For my gut feeling, see comments above. Of course, there's always a third possibility - these people are idiots, stark-raving bonkers, or evil incarnate. (Which reminds me of a great Peanuts cartoon in which Lucy said to Linus "Your stupidity is appalling," to which Linus replied "Most stupidity is.") Many times you read comments like this and wonder what these people could have been thinking - if, indeed, they were thinking at all.

But let's suppose for a minute that they aren't agent provocateurs, aren't enemies of the state, and aren't wackos. What does that leave? Possibly the most disturbing thought - that people who apparently have decent conservative credentials, who consider themselves (at least in some cases) Christians, who share many of the moral convictions (such as they are) that are identified with conservatives, can be so far off base in this case.

You must tread cautiously with these people. Pin yourself too closely to "family values" politics, and they'll hit you for being against marriage when you suggest that Michael Schiavo should not be making the decisions for Terri. The fact that his actions throughout the whole affair have brought into question his own commitment to his marriage doesn't seem to matter to these people. They only see the mantra you use in your thought, and hit you over the head with it. Many "conservatives" have real problems with the Federal government interjecting itself into this situation - setting a dangerous precedent for future government intervention - and I'll agree that these concerns aren't without merit. I might counter that where life issues are concerned, the barn door's already open - it was government intervention that started it all in the first place - but that's beside the point now.

I hark back to Michael Moriarty's column yesterday, in which he said "Even the conservative, spasmodically pro-life voice of business has supported Terri's husband. The costs alone, like those of sheltering convicted murderers, make life support counterproductive to the community." Too often, when economics becomes the dominant aspect of your political theory, you reduce people to statistics, and the meaning of life to the bottom line of a balance sheet. Those people - popularly called "economically conservative, socially moderate" - tend to divorce the two wings of thought, and I think that is a huge mistake. Actions have consequences, and any school of thought that purports to guide your way of thinking and acting has to have a level of consistency that can take new and different situations into account and lead you to a logical yet moral conclusion.

Liberals are no different - pro-abortion types are afraid of supporting Terri because they fear it will weaken their overall "pro-death" philosophy. Those who have come out in her defense risk political alienation, and it's all because they might have chosen to apply a different set of standards than those allowed by the rigid ideologies of their fellow travelers. What I mean to suggest here is that many people, left and right, have a way of thinking that oftentimes makes no allowances for real people and situations. They look at everything in terms of being a lab experiment.

Fact is, politics has become too nuanced to be contained simply by labels. There has to be something larger, some more consistent set of values by which one can live his life. For me, that is the teaching of the Catholic Church. Once I adopted her set of values, understood what the Church taught and why, it changed my way of thinking - dramatically in some areas, barely noticeable in others, but it gave a consistency to my thought that had been previously lacking. No longer did I have to put together some kind of Rube Goldberg mental contraption that would allow me to justify my positions on various issues. Now I had something solid - natural law - that could help me to understand different situations and come to a Catholic appreciation of how to handle them.

That's why I've stressed that this is not a political blog, even though we deal with politics with some degree of frequency. Once you lay out a political agenda, identify yourself with one particular brand of political ideology, you're asking for trouble. I've always insisted that there has to be a certain kind of holistic thought involved in anyone's political thinking, a synergy that will on occasion transcend political and ideological labels.

I make no bones about the fact that I consider myself a political conservative. Although I don't hold to any specific party affiliation, most people would identify me with the Republicans (and it was as a Republican that I ran for state representative a few years ago). But many "conservative Republicans" would have trouble with my criticism of big business and capitalism that I've offered in my continuing essays on Distributism. (And just wait until I get to companies who promote abortion, embryonic stem-cell research, cloning, and other morally repugnant policies simply to make a profit.) When I was hosting my monthly television program on public access, I used to take heat from those who didn't appreciate my frequent criticism of Republicans whom I felt fell short in one area or another. Others would label me a "paleo-conservative," and I think that's closer to the point. Yet even there, we may differ when it comes to support for the war in Iraq, and the war on terrorism in general. My point here is not that I'm subscribing to a smorgasbord style of thinking - one from column A, two from column B - unless we're talking about a philosophy born of a consistency that will withstand logical scrutiny. Therefore, while those of you who are more politically inclined may see me as a "Republican" thinker, there will be many times when I'm harshly critical of positions one might associate with Republicans. Other times my thought will seem more liberal - or at least moderate. But no matter where I stand on an issue, I try to make sure that there is a consistent unity of thought to it.

Some might ask if this isn't similar to the "big-tent" approach that I've ripped so many times. But "big-tent" thinking tries to accommodate several varieties of truth. I prefer to take my cue from Our Lord, Who pointed out that the truth cannot contradict itself. There is only one Way, one Truth, one Light. If you use these as your guidelines, you can't go far wrong.