Writing in this paper more than 30 years ago, Cardinal Gerald Emmett Carter wrote that parents in Ontario would lose the Catholic school system when they stopped caring about whether it was Catholic. We might be approaching that moment.


Faced with a premier who seems determined to force issues and teachings that go against Catholic teaching, and a Catholic educational establishment that thinks there is nothing to worry about, parents will have to either fight back to preserve Catholic schools or watch them fade into distant memory.

As far as I can tell, there is no such thing as a Christmas resolution. It seems resolutions belong exclusively to New Year’s Day and normally involve such self-help promises as lose weight, exercise more, quit smoking, pay off the credit card, learn a new language or take dancing lessons.

But maybe Catholics should shift their emphasis to resolutions that reflect the birth of the Saviour and make promises that align ourselves to what the Incarnation means to us in our Christian pilgrimage.

Less than two weeks after we began using the new translation of the Roman Missal, parishes and priests are getting used to the new prayers. Before the novelty wears off though, we ought to note that the very fact that the new translation exists at all is a promising sign for the Church’s witness in the 21st century.

Consider simply this: Whether at a parish in Bombay or Belfast, whether the Mass is being offered in Brisbane or Brandon, Catholics are praying the same prayers. For a universal Church whose liturgy is in Latin, that should not be surprising. Yet over the past decades centrifugal forces have been strong in the Church, with a certain liturgical mentality taking hold that emphasized the differences in various localities rather than the unity. When differing educational jurisdictions within a single country have a difficult time harmonizing their curriculum and examinations, it is no small achievement to have a single English translation used both in South Africa and South Dakota.

Before Canada’s federal and First Nations leaders hold a summit in late January to address the shameful state of native reserves, they should read Megan Blair’s plea for help in this issue of The Register.

They should feel the pain, share the despair and experience the sorrow she witnesses daily. A registered nurse in Moose Factory, Ont., Blair’s patients include the sick and dying from Attawapiskat, the small northern village that is Canada’s new symbol of neglect for its First Nations peoples.

“The poverty is immense,” she writes. “But it is not just a poverty of material things. It is a poverty of spirit. There is so much hopelessness and suffering.”

Christians made to look like the bad guy in Russell Peters’ controversy

When CTV announced that its Russell Peters Christmas special would feature a Nativity skit with Pamela Anderson portraying the Virgin Mary, various entertainment media pundits made predictable witticisms about enraged Christians protesting to the point of giving each other heart attacks. The cheap shots, of course, bear no resemblance to reality. Most Christians only protest the most vile material, and even then tend to reserve judgment until they’ve verified that it’s actually as bad as advertised. By and large, Christians have low expectations of entertainment media and, rather than complain, simply change the channel.

My fellow Catholic Register columnist Peter Stockland and I may just be crazy. After writing thousands of columns between us, we certainly know that some readers think so! But this craziness is somewhat different. We have decided to start a magazine.

It’s called Convivium (www.cardus.ca/convivium), and a special preview issue was launched in October. We start bimonthly publishing next February. Convivium literally means life together, though the word is often translated to mean banquet or festive meal; hence the “convivial” person is one who would enliven such an occasion. Our subject is just that — our common life together as Canadians. Specifically, we claim to be about faith in our common life.

The world has few writers with the fervour to publicly trash the  covers of their own books. The world has even fewer writers like Heather King.

For that reason alone, King’s newly released Shirt of Flame: A Year With Saint Thérèse of Lisieux is the one book I’ve read this year that I would suggest as a guidebook for the pilgrimage of ordinary life.

It was hardly news on Nov. 28 when federal Environment Minister Peter Kent dismissed the Kyoto protocol as a “big blunder.” Like the Liberals who signed the climate-change treaty in 1997, the Conservatives have made little effort to honour Canadian promises to reduce greenhouse gas emissions.

But Canada is not alone. As 190 nations gathered in Durban for a climate conference, the spirit of Kyoto, if not the treaty itself, was vanishing faster than the icebergs it was supposed to save. Kyoto was doomed by the many countries that cynically signed on and then did nothing and by a handful of big countries, such as the United States and China, that snubbed the treaty all along and gave big polluters like Canada an excuse to renege.

At Advent I’m flooded with memories of childhood and growing up in a devout Polish immigrant home. My family’s life revolved around Toronto’s St. Stanislaus Kostka Church at Queen and Bathurst. I would be there several times a week for catechism classes, Polish school, youth group, Polish folk dancing, my dad’s choir practice, mom’s Legion of Mary.

During Advent there were church rehearsals for the parish Nativity play, one of the biggest Sunday afternoons of the year when we’d await the spectacular visit from St. Nicolas. Dressed like a bishop, he brought goodies for all the kids.

My mother died on Nov. 13, age 99, just a few weeks short of her hundredth birthday. She had lived a long, productive life, including careers as medical secretary, teacher, librarian and homemaker. Her last three years were spent in a nursing home where, by the way, she received good care.

As the surly manifestations of age and decrepitude became more prevalent, she was oftimes spiteful and angry, but when death came it was quite peaceful. So, after a long life and calm death, who could ask for more. Certainly not me. G.K. Chesterton cautioned against looking a gift universe in the mouth, and I have always thought that sage advice.