For many years I have enjoyed a group of Catholic writers who hit their stride roughly in the middle of the 20th century.

Recent events have been dark and disturbing. First we saw U.S. President Donald Trump put a “temporary” travel and immigration ban on seven mostly Muslim countries. Then there was the tragedy in Quebec City where six men were killed and several wounded while praying.

I just read about a priest in Italy who took down a crèche because he feared it would offend non-Christians. There was no indication he was forced to do it, but it seems he decided to be proactive just in case.

We all look for signs of hope. Many Catholics cling to anything that points away from secular smugness to a world in which the name “Christ” is not used as an expletive.

George Weigel might just be the most important lay Catholic at work today. The American writer’s books, essays, newspaper columns and lectures address the importance of defending the Catholic faith, and religion in general, from the assault of radical secularism.

As a native American, a Catholic and someone who still clings to the notion that character matters, I have found someone who is worthy of my vote. Abe Lincoln is not on the U.S. presidential ballot but I will write in his name.

I believe the heart of our faith is forgiveness. Even when receiving the Eucharist we are reminded that on the cross, in His great agony, Jesus forgave.

The great Canadian author William Kinsella died Sept. 16 at the age of 81. He wrote terrific stories and was brilliant at merging baseball and fiction. His novel Shoeless Joe was turned into the hit movie Field of Dreams. He left behind a great literary legacy and a gaping hole in the hearts of baseball fans with a literary bent.

When discussions about Catholic fiction arise certain names are always mentioned: J.R.R. Tolkien, Flannery O’Connor, Graham Greene, Evelyn Waugh, Thomas Merton and so forth. Even C. S. Lewis comes up, even though he was a member of the Church of England.

The world abounds in conspiracy theories. It was always thus.