The Gospel Truth

Why Conservatives Hate the Poor

May 31, 2011

Democrats and other leftists say that Republicans hate poor people and even the elderly.  They run ads that are reminiscent of Richard Widmark’s sinister portrayal of a killer in The Kiss of Death.

Republican operative?

Republicans don’t really hate the poor.  In fact surveys and polls have proven that conservatives are more generous to charities that actually help real poor people.

Remember how frugal the Clintons were when they used to deduct Bill’s old jockey shorts.   Or were they boxers?

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Tax write-off?

And when they finally struck it rich after his eight years in office, most of their donations went to their favorite charity–his presidential library

And Al Gore, a near-billionaire,  gave just over $300 to charity one year.

But the matter is not so much about conservatives hating the poor–what they really hate is poverty.

They know that big government is one of the leading causes of poverty in this country because it kills the inborn trait of incentive that directs us to try to better our own conditions.

Just as the young bird wants to fly on his own, people naturally want to provide for themselves.

But when the mama bird does everything for the young bird, it cripples his spiritual wings and he never leaves the nest.

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Government's favorite species

It’s the same principle behind the axiom–give a man a fish and you feed him for a day.  Teach him to fish and he can feed himself forever.

Conservatives’ love is the tough love of self-discipline and direction.

Liberals love the crippled poor, who can never do anything for themselves and become perpetual wards of the state.

They love the poor so much they want everyone in this country…except their closest friends and donors–to be poor.

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Feels government's love

Whether they know it or not the so-called poor, the amorphous category of unfortunate Americans who the politicians trot out before each election have become the pawns in a high-stakes chess game.

The left uses the largesse of all the money they have confiscated from the wealthy to pay for our needs…within reason of course from cradle to grave.

Since they control the purse strings, they get to decide who gets to sleep in the cradle…and doesn’t even get a cradle.

We must not forget their friends at the caring Planned Parenthood Health Center.

They also get to decide which people go to the grave more quickly than maybe God or nature intended.

It is a grave responsibility.  But someone has to do it.

To insure that more people become poor they have consulted their favorite writers.  No, not Jesus or even Matthew, Mark, Luke and John.

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Not on the socially preferred list

Instead they have Nico, Karl, Vladimir, Antonio and Sol.  These fellows knew how to make people join the largest club in the world–the growing ranks of the poor.

To do this all they have to do is follow the formula.

First of all, they must remove religion from their schools.  This is best done by having the government provide their education.

Then they can separate the churches from the governments.  Do this they can protect society from religion, instead of protecting the churches from the government.

Make God a totally private matter and then legislate to remove most of the private areas.

The schools can also get the kids mixed up in sexual activity as quickly and as early as they can.

These same godless schools also show them how to put a condom on a banana.

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Of great educational value

That is a great educational skill that can come in handy as they get older.  It will also get them to eat more fruit.  I am not certain if a condom would fit over other fruits, like apples and watermelons.

They can also teach them all about the different varieties of sexual expression.

It will take away all the hang-ups their parents had and any sense of shame about their bodies will quickly disappear with their inborn sense of modesty.

And if they should be punished with a pregnancy, such as our fearless president fears for his own daughters, the country is fortunate that we have  those friendly faces at Planned Parenthood.

To prevent this situation Obama has taken great pains to ensure that his friends at the  local clinic will make certain that his daughters are relieved of any punishment thanks to millions of taxpayer dollars.

Of course those unfortunate girls who don’t listen to the president will be happy to know that their out-of-wedlock babies will enhance the certitude of their ability to join the ranks of the poor.  Then the president can take care of them for life.

They will have to drop out of school and most likely become working moms at the local grocery store or local mall.

Millions of these women, who were seduced by the call of nature, had their futures taken away from them because of their teachers, friends and a sexually saturated culture that has forced God to the sidelines.

Had they followed the rules of morality, instead of the seductions of nature and friends, they might have avoided the ranks of the poor.

This is not an endorsement of the president’s warning…only the statement of the fact of how liberal government is always working for their love of the poor.

And while all their teenagers are getting it on and hooking up in the love-dominated co-ed dorms of our leading universities, their mothers and fathers…especially those in conservative households are disrupted to the point of distraction.

To find evidence of this, one need only go to the local mall to see the flood of teens strutting around in attire that would not be fit for even a beach.

I can often feel and even smell the sexual energy that accompanies these public demonstrations of hormonal overload.

And many of them have just attended or are going to the late show that can visually show them dozens of new circumstances and stimulations that will push those electric impulses from their brains rights into their pelvic regions.

Moms and dads may coalesce but none want to see their babies turn into the chemical zombies I see at these malls.

Liberals also think that Americans, especially those who worked long and hard to make a lot of money are too foolish to know what to do with that money…so the friendly tax man must take as much of it as he can get away with.

I think that’s what 19th century thinker, Frederic Bastiat called organized plunder.

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Was opposed to big government

The progressive income tax has been a boon to big government and liberals since Karl Marx and Frederick Engels promoted it along with the death tax, and the public school in their 1848 pamphlet, The Communist Manifesto.

They also promoted a central bank or what we call the Federal Reserve system to help relieve people of their wealth I presume but that’s more an issue for Ron Paul.

Private property and wealth are great buffers against poverty.

Liberals hate these buffers because when people have money, property and wealth they won’t be poor and therefore the Democrats can’t love them and overwhelm them with their goodness, decency and compassion.

Selfish people like this are the bane of a great society and an obstacle to the kind of paradise that will eventually replace the pie in the sky kind of fanaticism that had dominated most of the country’s religious traditions until now.

So to recount the enemies of poverty and the poor are the conservative traditions of religion, the family and private property.  That makes them the enemies of liberalism.

According to socialists, these institutions are the vehicles of hate for poor people and must be eliminated.

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Enemies of the poor

We can rest assured that our fearless leaders in DC are doing  everything in their enormous power to move religion out of the public marketplace, break-up the family and confiscate as much wealth from their rightful owners as the law will allow and then some.

The future of poverty depends on it.

In case you missed my article, The Wimp Factor for RenewAmerica, here is the site: 

A High School Chronicle

May 24, 2011

In St. Louis the first thing people usually ask you is where did you go to high school?

It has become a parochial parody that privately mocks the people who take it seriously.

If St. Louis has one indefensible criticism it is their abject provincialism.  To them high school is the most important social connection that one can have.

If you did not go to one of the elite schools, like Country Day, John Burroughs or St. Louis U. high, your chances of being connected are seriously limited.

And if you happen to have migrated from another city, especially New York City, you were beyond help and would forever be considered an outsider, doom to  looking in forever.

I realized the sting this can have when a legendary St. Louis sports writer had taken umbrage at something I had written in an attempt to be clever.

At a banquet in front of 170 people, the sharpest rebuke he could think of was that I was a smart ass from New York City.

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Wise guys have trouble fitting in

Wow did that hurt!

Being from that forsaken hamlet in the east, where one went to high school was never that important to me.

Until recently.

I attended Xavier High School from 1957 through 1961.

Xavier is located in Manhattan at 30 West 16th Street in the garment district.

When I was there it was a military high school…run by the Jesuits, which had been founded by a military person–Saint Ignatius Loyola.  This to me makes it a redundancy.

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The two greatest Jesuits

For those who are math scholars that was 50 years ago when I received my diploma.

I had been looking forward to my 50th reunion for sometime.  I love reunions.  I had long shed my inferiority complex that made those years more painful than the sportswriter’s best shot.

I found out that there are two responses to seeing people you have not seen in 50 years.

Some look just as if you remembered them–older of course but their core is still written on their faces.

Then there are the ones whom you need to look at the horrific yearbook photos, dangling from their necks on reunion night.

Horrific photos

I often quip that I have just two identifiable talents–a very good memory and a very big mouth.

The first fellow I saw prompted my memory.  I rushed up to him and asked to see if he still had any yellow on his teeth.

Down Bill was probably his first reaction.

When we were sophomores, he sat in front of me and I was talking to my neighbor, grade school chum, Eddie Smith, during Latin class.

Mr. Lavery was a sweet, likable man with a few peculiarities.  He was a good teacher and spent the last 35 years of his life teaching the Classics at Holy Cross.

He was obviously miffed at me more than Smith.  I was startled in mid-sentence, not by anything he said but by a cloud of yellow chalk dust that summoned my attention.

I looked at Frank in front of me and was aghast that he was wiping yellow chalk dust from his teeth, his mouth, and his glasses.

Mr. Lavery had chucked an eraser at me but was a little bit off in his aim.

I can still see the bright crimson look on his face.   He was like one of those commercials where you want to climb in a hole because of the embarrassing thing you just said or did.

The strange thing was that Frank had not remembered anything about that.

How could he NOT remember?

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Frank could not remember

He was collateral damage. And he didn’t remember!

I also went up to another fellow and told him how I had saved his married life.

He looked at me as to say–go away Bill.

Jim was the starting center on our football team.

My high school career consisted of football camp and three games of sitting on the Xavier bench before I unceremoniously quit…as they say to devote more time to my studies…which for me was absolutely true.

Minutes before the kick-off with the ruffians from the Cardinal Hayes, Jim came up to me…and told me that he had forgotten his cup and I don’t mean his coffee cup.

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Not what Jim wanted

How can an athlete forget his cup? Mets’ pitcher, Tom Seaver always wore two of them.

It is probably a man’s most important piece of equip…maybe I should rephrase that.

This future leader of men went to West Point.  He served with heroic distinction in Vietnam–they don’t give medals to people who forget their helmets.

(Jim was awarded the Silver Star, the nation’s second highest decoration.)

So  for the good of the team, I reluctantly gave in to his desperate needs and for 32 minutes of game time, I sat as far away from the coach as I could with my legs crossed…praying that the Scar would not call my number—13.  How prophetic!

I couldn’t wait to introduce myself to Jim’s wife and tell her the story.  I think she immediately called a cab.

Awhile later I finally realized how important Xavier was to my life.

It shaped my life to the extent that it set the direction I took that established my entire post-grad existence.

I didn’t realize this until the open mic at our class dinner, which was held at the Union League Club building on 37th Street in Manhattan.

I had to chuckle when the mic became available of the 60 people there—35 of whom were members of the class of 1961–no one stirred or even looked at the mic when our class secretary, Chip Connell proclaimed its availability.

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No one even stirred

No one moved and these were distinguished leaders in business, law, medicine and the military.

A heavyset, middle-aged balding man wears the black robes of a judge. He looks towards the camera, almost smiling.

Was in the Class of 1953

An open mic is likened to a restroom when you are on a trip.  You should never pass one up because the chance may never come again.

I counted to 10 and when no one moved, I went up to the podium.

I started with my familiar opening line—I have never met a mic I didn’t like…unless you count my former son-in-law.  As usual I got a good response.

I proceeded to tell the throng that I bet I had gotten something from Xavier that none of them had ever received.

And what was my singular property?  A rejection letter!

In March of 1957 when everyone was getting letters of both kinds—I was no dummy— I had scored 162nd out of 5000 applicants for our hated rival school Brooklyn Prep, another Jebbie school.

But from Xavier I got a thin letter that nearly broke my heart.

It hurt worse when I found others that a number of fellows who had inferior grades to my steady 95.6 average in elementary school had gotten the two-page letter.

I moped around for a full week until one afternoon during our lunch break, Eddie Smith–he of the exploding eraser incident– came running up to me and told me to call home quickly.

Like ET I did and even used a quarter instead of a dime, so great was my anticipation.

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I spent a quarter for a 10 cent call

My dad had called Smith because he always went home for lunch.  The news was that Xavier had reconsidered and I was now an accepted member of the Class of 1961.

How did that happen?  Was it affirmative action?

I can only think that it was the intercession of the Holy Spirit telling me that within Xavier’s hallowed walls resided my destiny.

Of course the Third person of the Trinity usually works through other people.

I think I later found out that my saintly maiden aunt, who had a very good friend–Father Connors– who was connected with the Church of Saint Francis, though not officially the high school, went to the official Xavier powers and convinced them that I would be a worthy addition to the school.

I never met this instrument of my destiny.  I should have looked him up and told him how he was probably one of the greatest influences in my life.

But I didn’t.

Those are the saddest words of pen and tongue.

Because of Xavier I went to Holy Cross, where I met a Father John Sullivan, who was a recruiter for the Catholic Lay Extension.

They sent me to Charleston, Missouri, where I met my wife of nearly 45 years.

From there is was more education and back to Missouri where I have been doing my thing—teaching, writing, coaching, advocating and of course–talking.

My story from left field must have inspired the others because about a dozen ‘mates followed me and started regaling us with their hilarious stories and deep-felt emotions of how important Xavier was to them.

Isn’t that what reunions are all about–stories, and the celebration of our mutual experiences under the same roof and in the same uniforms?

I just sat there with a little glow on my face and thanked God for putting me into the mix with these great people.

It was a moment of epiphany for then I fully  realized just what my fellow St. Louisans mean when they stress the importance of where you went to high school.

Playing the Back Nine and Other Stories

May 18, 2011

Getting old is not for sissies.   

Late Cardinal announcer, Jack Buck helped us watch the aging process and the serious limitations it can put on the skills and energy levels of talented people when those skill start to deminish.

Most baseball fans cringed in horror as an aged 43 year old Willie Mays, staggered under a fly ball during the 1973 World Series.

Buck had Parkinson’s Disease during the last years of his life and it made listening to him very difficult.

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Gave us the bad with the good

He was well aware of his decline and in typical Buckian wit said:  I gave you the best years of my life and now I am giving you som eof the worst.”

I remember at a dinner one time as EMC he quipped that at his age “I am playing the back nine.”

At age 67 that’s how I have felt for a while–I am probably at least holing out on the 14th green.

So these stories are all dedicated to my perception and fear of aging.  Read them with the good humor with which I have intended.   

As a child I was in a hurry to grow up, to be mature and independent.  I remember when I was eleven years old, I thought it would be great to live until the year 2000.

That’s before Stanley Kubrick made me realize that I had really meant 2001.  Now that it has finally happened, I no longer relish my advanced maturity.

I am what the late Cardinal Sports Announcer, Jack Buck used to quip, playing the back nine.  And I was never any good at golf.

Jack Buck and I had a really strange relationship  I have three stories that I would love to share with his son Joe, if I can ever summon the courage to meet him some day.  We do see each other at the local Starbucks every so often.

Lets say, I see him and he looks the other way.

This reflection on age and aging has several different components worthy of note.

The first has to do with eating.  Years ago, I could eat anything and work sweat or worry off any unwanted calories.

Now my tailor is on a retainer.  When I go on a cruise, just knowing the midnight buffet is three decks away, can add another inch on my belt line.

Burger King is hiring

Can’t go there any more.

And what are all these golden years I hear about?

Does that mean gold in the teeth, or money in the bank?  I think silver is a better choice.  I mean silver hair, if one is lucky to have any of his hair left.  Silver is also the color on my multi-vitamin bottle.

I thought the salad years was something goos, not that you had to eate nothing more filling that a pile of leaves.

Pain is another constant of the aging process.

At fifty, I stopped jogging, playing tennis and running up stairs three at a time.

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Too much pain

I sadly realized that I was at the stage when my body gave me more pain than pleasure.  It was just too easy to get hurt.  I was spending too much time at the local Walgreen’s, waiting for my pain prescriptions to be filled.

I recently got tennis elbow at a footballgame.

As the injuries piled up and my waistline expanded, I decided to hire my own personal trainer.

Working out was great, but as Lizzie increased the pain level, I found that exercise only felt good because it stopped hurting when we stopped.

The only pleasure my body gives me now, is when I am not in pain or exercising.

I suspect that the next milestone will be that my only pleasure will come from my constant pain, in some sort of post-menopausal response to the ravages of age.

(I recently started getting a massage twice a week.  I can honestly say the pain is much more tolerable and my body seems to be my friend again.)

The older I get the more equipment I need to get along.  I seem to have more gadgets that plug in or insert for added vision, auditory reception, and the like.

It takes ten minutes of each morning to, gather, clean, unplug, dewax, and buff my equipment.

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The young already know about hearing loss

I feel like an “auto” mechanic.

Of course, maybe it is just the times.  Every married couple I see seems to have a baggage train of baby stuff dragging behind them.  I do not see how any of them go anywhere, what with the portable cribs, strollers, car seats—all which seem to way fifty pounds each.

When we had children, hey, two diapers and a bottle in a tiny diaper bag and we were out of the house.  The Latin word for baggage train was “impediementa,” which give sus our English word, “impediment. To me that would be an impediment to having any more children.

I used to have a great memory.  I could recite the presidents in order and the years they served.  I can still do that but I have trouble remembering which country they lead.

For some reason I can’t remember or don’t want to remember who the 44th president is.  Henry Aaron or Willie McCovey?  They were both 44’s.

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I can remember Willie’s number

I would be lost without my daily calendar, that is, if I could find it.  And keys?  Why can I never find my keys?  Do they have legs?  I often go into rooms and forget why I went there.

But then aging is not all that bad when one considers the alternative.

If I were Chinese I would be revered and honored for my age and wisdom.  Here, I am willing to settle for a warm bed, a nearby restroom and three full meals a day.

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In China I would have been revered

I have all the time in the world to think about where I am and what I am doing.

What was the question?

It’s a sin to tell a lie!

May 10, 2011

While Billy Mayhew first introduced the song It’s a sin to tell a lie 1936, every one from Patti Page and Bobby Vinton to Tony Bennett to Buddy Greco later recorded it.

I first heard it in the 50s, probably the Vinton version.

I just finished reading Congressman Ron Paul’s latest book Liberty Defined: 50 Essential Issues that affect our Freedom.

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Wrote about the noble lie.

One of the issues he discussed was what he called the noble lie.

We used to talk of white lies, black lies and of course statistics, which always seems to support the wrong side of an argument to the clever and the devious.

There is nothing noble about lying.  It is truly an oxymoron.

Like Rush Limbaugh I have prided myself on seeking truth wherever it may reside.  And by truth, I mean a perception of reality that is accurate, and based on reality.

I know I will never fully perceive or understand everything I encounter but I want to be right in the correct and accurate sense of the word.

As for my own personal experience, my lies have been few and relatively minor.

I cannot remember anytime I deliberate spoke an untruth with the intent of deceiving or misleading someone for my own personal gain or protection

I have sometimes resorted to Jesuitical evasions but never deliberate falsehoods.

Being married as long as I have, has presented innumerable situations where telling the absolute truth could have been dangerous for my well-being and that of my spouse.

I will confess to having fudged several answers over the years to pointed questions about my opinions on an outfit etc but never have I said anything untrue to deceive my spouse.

One time however I did use my clever wit to avoid answering an extremely pointed question.

It was several years ago on a Valentine’s Day.  We were out with two of our dearest friends.

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Played a dangerous game

There was a long wait and my wife was bored.

She suggested we play a game…a dangerous game for husbands I might add.

She asked us to each tell what we like most and least about our respective spouses.

I don’t advise ANYONE who wants to remain married to try this game.

I went first and said what I liked most about my spouse was her volatility, and what I liked least about her was her…volatility.

She accepted it without too much comment.

I must add that my fellow husband did not do as well…though he is still married to the same woman.

But back to the Congressman.

Paul was writing more about the political lie.

He says that Plato fathered the noble lie in the Republic, which he wrote in 380 B.C.

Plato in the School of Athens

The father of the noble lie

Almost two millennia later Nico Machiavelli argued that government lying was good for parties, the government and the people.

Paul says that the noble lie is ever-present in our government today and has taken on a life of  its own with its bi-partisan support among the Democrats and the neo-conservatives.

There is a touch of the paternalistic arrogance in a government that justifies its lies in the name of the people.

Government lies make our society more cohesive and less divided.

Tell that to the Tea Party!

Liberals and neo-cons are really nothing more than neo-Gnostics whose sense of elitism makes lying a great way to maintain their power and increase the size of government.

Adolph Hitler and Joseph Goebbels gave us the big lie, that argued if government made their lies colossal nobody would challenge that notion that anybody could make up something so far from the perception of reality.

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Told the "big lie."

The Father of all neo-conservatives was Paul Leo Strauss, who came to the United States in 1938 at the age of 39 where he taught at the University of Chicago.

It was here that he influenced several people who would rise in government during Clinton and Bush’s administrations, such as Paul Wolfowitz, William and Irving Kristol and John Podhoretz.

Some of Strauss’ ideas include his belief that the elite have the right to deceive the masses.

Good for government to lie

Rulers are superior and have a right and obligation over the inferior in society.

External threats unite the people.  According to Machiavelli if one does not exist the rulers must create one. (Rahm Emmanuel call the president)

This will help make the people more obedient to their leaders.

Individualism is basically evil and the elite must meet their obligation to rule the incompetent.

This is why the Founding Fathers have been in the left’s crosshairs this past generation.

I would link their attempt to cover-up and hide the truth to the general consensus that condemns conspiracy theories among the elite.

Conspiracy has been the life blood of history.  People have always plotted against their political rivals, whether in Medieval Europe, dynastic China or the Middle East with internecine religious wars between Sunnis and Shiites.

It has always been a facet of human history and government lying helps prevent the truth of history from fully being exposed.

As Tennessee Williams, Big Daddy proclaimed in Cat on a Hot In Roof:

Didn’t you notice a powerful and obnoxious odor of mendacity in this room? There ain’t nothin’ more powerful than the odor of mendacity… You can smell it. It smells like death.

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Could smell the mendacity

Americans have to challenge their lies on both sides of the aisles or else suffer the loss of our individual freedom.

They used to joke—how can you tell if Clinton is lying?  His lips move.

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Is he moving his lips?

This goes even double for our current White House occupant.

Mendacity…mendacity…medacity…it has become the chilly utilitarianism of too many of our public officials.

Thanks to talk radio and the Internet it is getting harder and harder for the government to foist its deceptive lies on the American people.

The Missed Message of Calvery

May 2, 2011

On the opening night of my parish’s Lenten Mission, the visiting priest asked us, what was Jesus’ ‘best’ homily?

His Sermon on the Mount or quite possibly the Last Supper immediately came to mind.

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His best sermon?

While he said both were excellent answers, there was something much better.

A priest for 40 years, he had only recognized Jesus’ “best sermon” 10 years ago.

Before answering his question, he talked on the beauties and importance of the many walks in life, from the graduation walk, the walk down the aisle on a wedding day to the leisure stroll with friends and family.

walking down the aisle as mr and mrs cory cates

A very important walk

Father said Jesus’ best homily depicted the most important walk in the history of the world and it was on the walls of every church he had ever walked into—the Stations of the Cross.

In meditating on the stations, Father found that they were a microcosm of the Catholic faith. And every time he looked at that walk on the wall it if was as if Jesus was saying to him, Come Follow Me.” (Mark 1:17)

The first lesson is that we must stop judging people for what they have and who they are because we are all God’s children.

On His second stop Jesus is telling us to stop our complaining.  Jesus was innocent of any wrongdoing and yet He was tortured and sentenced to death but never complained.

At stops three, seven and nine Jesus falls to the ground but despite His pain and suffering He got up again—He never quit…  In the battles of the flesh and the spirit, we must never give up.

The Passion of the Christ (2004). Trailer. Imdb. Watch it! (aramaic, latin & hebrew with spanish subtitles).

He never gave up

In the middle of His walk, Simon of Cyrene was enlisted to help Jesus carry His burden.

Similarly, many of us have been called as caregivers and helpers to ease the burdens of those close to us who may have a difficult time carrying their crosses of disease, old age or personal affliction.

Jim Caviezel in The Passion of the Christ by Mel Gibson

Simon eased His burden

At stops four, sixth and eight, Jesus had sound advice for a world that preaches that happiness can only be found only where there is no pain or suffering.

Jesus’ touching encounter with Mary, who found immense joy within the pangs of the suffering of childbirth, echoing the profound words of St. James’ Epistle, Count it all joy my brethren, when you meet various trials for you know that the testing of your faith, produces steadfastness. (Jas.1: 2-3)

To the compassionate Veronica He leaves His image in blood and sweat that she would joyously treasure forever.

To the women of Jerusalem, His message was for them to stop their weeping over His suffering but focus on their children because children who bring joy, laughter and renew the spirit of life.

At the 10th stations Jesus tells us to love the material things of the world but don’t make them the center of your being.

At the next stop Jesus talks about pain.  Father said everyone is handicapped in some way.  Jesus never complained during His long ordeal.  He offered it up to His Father for us.

Jesus also invites us to join Him in the cross of suffering, not because suffering is wonderful but by offering up our pains and suffering for others they will serve as a vehicle of His healing grace.

Before we can finish our walk we must let go of our bitterness, grudges and forgive those who have wronged us.

While Jesus’ walk was to His death on the Cross our walk is a way to life eternal.

Next time you go into a Church, take a few moment to “listen” to His best homily.

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An open invitation

I wonder how many Catholics just don’t get it.  I mean understand the beauty of our common faith.

How many listen more to the anchors on commercial TV or NPR radio for their truth.

I was in a parking lot at the Jewish Community Center a few weeks ago and I saw a confusing bumper sticker.

This one said:  I am against the death penalty.

Ok, so what—that’s your prerogative.

But it was the following proof that nearly knocked me over.

Look what it did to Jesus!

Wow what a revelation.

The death penalty killed Christ and not His own people, who rejected everything He stood for fear of their loss of power.

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A victim of the Death Penalty?

For an interesting analogy, just what the fear of a similar loss of power has done to Democrats all over the country.

I would love to have asked the auto owner, where would we all be had Jesus not lost His life on the Cross?

Would man’s salvation had been achieved had Jesus died by a drive-by-shooting or died of cardiac arrest at the age of 65?

These are all questions that we should ponder right after the anniversary of His supreme sacrifice, which I might point out is reenacted each day in every Catholic Church around the world.

I invite your comments on the ideas I have expressed here.

P.S. To be fair our own Catholic Newspaper, the St. Louis Review published an atrocious cartoon of Jesus hanging on the Cross with the caption that read: This is what the death penalty did!

So even our own publisher and editor entirely missed the message of Jesus’ long walk to Calvary.


About author

After graduating from Holy Cross, Bill Borst earned an MA in Asian History from St. John's University and a Ph.D in American History from St. Louis University. (1972) A former New Yorker, he taught for many years in the St. Louis area, while also hosting a weekly radio show on WGNU from 1984-2006. He currently is a regular substitute for conservative Phyllis Schlafly on KSIV radio. (1320) He is the author of two books on social history, "Liberalism: Fatal Consequences," and "The Scorpion and the Frog: A Natural Conspiracy." He just retired as the Features editor of the Mindszenty Foundation Monthly Report. In his 11 years from 2003-2013 he wrote nearly 130 essays on Catholic culture and world affairs. Many in St. Louis also know him as the "Baseball Professor," because of a course that he offered at Maryville College from 1973-74. It was arguably the first fully-accredited baseball history course in the Midwest.The author of several short books on the old St. Louis Browns, he started the St. Louis Browns Historical Society in 1984. In 2009 his first two plays were produced on the local stage. "The Last Memory of an Ol' Brownie Fan," ran six performances at the Sound Stage in Crestwood and "A Perfect Choice" ran for two performances at the Rigali Center Theater in Shrewsberry. His third play, "A Moment of Grace," ran six performances at DeSmet High School in January of 2011with First Run Theater in January of 2011. He is currently working on a 4th play, "A Family Way," which is a comedy about a happy dysfunctional family. He can reached at