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What is a Catholic teacher to do in the current climate? I know I am not alone when, especially in the month of June, I feel bombarded by Rainbow banners, stickers and lanyards; I resent the pressure from our “Catholic” union to display Pride rainbows, and even march in the Pride parade. 

One of the Correctional Service of Canada’s (CSC) top priorities is ensuring that those who are incarcerated in Canada’s federal institutions have access to quality, safe, patient-centred and culturally-responsive care. This is underscored by CSC’s legislative mandate and the Corrections and Conditional Release Act (CCRA), which includes providing essential health care and reasonable access to non-essential health care to federal inmates, in keeping with professional standards. As part of this, CSC is responsive to the needs of offenders, including quality and compassionate palliative and end-of-life care.

Flaws will be found, objections raised, and nits picked with the Sacred Covenant made between Catholic and Indigenous leaders regarding the Indian Residential School in Kamloops, B.C.

I am back to the basic I was raised with: to know, to love and to serve the Lord supported by the grace received from the sacraments. I have grown in my faith these past 10 years with learning how to have a quiet meditative and reflective time in the morning, which allows me to be more aware of those around me and of their needs. In my Church family, my awareness has increased with 52 years of Catholic Women’s League involvement and five years of assisting with the RCIA program at Transfiguration. It’s being part of a community, you pray for and with others in times of joy and sorrow. I believe that I am living my faith each and every day as a Christian Catholic.

Thank you to Deacon Andrew Bennett for his inspiring article and to the editor for posing this challenging question. It is one that needs to be asked on a regular basis to assist every person that dares to call themselves Catholic to stop, ponder, reflect and respond. For us, our Catholicity began at our baptism, was nourished through our parents, family, parish communities, faithful priests who guided us (and continue to do so), faith-filled elementary school teachers, receiving the sacraments and taking advantage of the many opportunities our Church offers today, encouraging us to learn and grow in our faith as we journey through adulthood, marriage and our senior years. 

Being Catholic, for me, is believing in the Apostle’s Creed and the sacraments.

Did wearing my big brother’s army jacket make me a soldier? Does attending the Eucharistic celebration and praying aloud, while “going our own way” otherwise, make me a Catholic? Certainly not. Bishop Fulton Sheen wrote that attending Mass religiously is the least one “must” do to be Catholic.  There is knowledge, education, training and an absolute “way of life” to be lived, to be a soldier, and probably even more so, to be a genuine, mature, Catholic. Belief in acceptance of, and surrender to, Christ and “all things Catholic” is of course necessary for true Catholicism. 

The Catholic faith is to submit to the Good Shepherd and the rock, His Church. Humans are flawed so we fall short. Humans are culture and the dominant culture is skewed from the way, the truth and the life so I was neither shocked nor surprised by the results of the poll. A devout Catholic is one who enters through the narrow gate because that is where the treasure resides. 

The appalling contemporary throwback known by its cutesy euphemism “medical aid in dying” (MAiD) is now making its death fingered presence felt in the nation’s jail houses.

A recent Sunday Gospel was about the puzzling “sin against the Holy Spirit.” Puzzling and terrifying because Jesus is clear about its consequence: this sin “will not be forgiven in this life or the next.” (Mark 3:20-25) How can an all-loving God, full of mercy, who will forgive our worse offences, also tell us there is such a thing as an unforgivable sin? Most of all, how can I make sure I never commit this sin?

My father was a frugal man who categorically rejected going into debt. He warned me against this way of life more than I can recall. When he and my mother bought their modest home in Regina in 1954, they paid cash. Dad bought used cars, again always paying up front.