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The prophets whom God sent to His people carried a two-fold message, which can be boiled down to this: “Go to Temple—and don’t provoke the goyim!” Again and again, the prophets of Israel countered the claims of ambitious kings and zealous nationalists (think of them as the first neocons), whose plans for national greatness entailed risky and needless wars. In fact, the Hebrew prophets were the precursors of the Christian critique of conquest. While the Church has never advocated outright pacifism, beginning with St. Augustine it has developed increasingly strict criteria by which to judge the causes and conduct of war. These criteria take all the fun out of war—banning naked land-grabs, empire building, torture, mass-rape, fire-bombing cities, and the use of America’s 10,000 or so nukes for pretty much anything at all. Since the Just War tradition is such a buzz-kill, Christians of a certain kind often argue it away as cleverly as a canon lawyer wangling an annulment for a Kennedy. [Read More]

Easter was once something more than an uptick on the sales charts of the milk-chocolate industry. Instead, it was like the last day of a very bad school—a feast of liberation, an end to dreary rules, celibacy, and fish-sticks. You can see why this would inspire the brewing of Easter beer. The monks themselves were often the ones tending the barrels. Among the breweries of monastic origin or ownership which still produce a special Easter brew are the Belgian St-Feuillien, St. Bernardus and Grimbergen. Like Christmas ale, Easter beers are often flavored with spices or hints of fruit, but they are lighter and simpler, more like the lagers with which Americans are (all too) familiar. They go well with a roast pork, ham, or Easter Bunny Fricassee [Read More]

Color raw eggs instead of boiled. Awaken the little ones at sunrise for the Easter Egg Hunt. But as you collect them, instead of peeling and eating hard-boiled eggs—let’s face it, who really wants to eat them?—have a raucous egg-fight, boys against girls, on the lawn in front of your home. You might even want to lead them in an Easter hymn as they hunt and hurl, hunt and hurl, such as “Jesus Christ is Risen Today,” “Victimae Paschali Laudes,” or the beloved Polish “Chodzimy po dyngusie i śpiewamy o Jezusie.” [Read More]

Mark this multifaceted feast by making a pilgrimage to seven churches in your city—preferably visiting congregations you wouldn’t normally see, in neighborhoods you might avoid, to remind yourself of the universality of the Church, and why you moved to the sterile suburbs in the first place. Since the authors dwell in New York City, it’s easy for us to make this trip on foot. Each year, we go from a Russian Catholic liturgy to a cathedral built by the Irish, a parish in Little Italy, a Slovenian and then a Polish church, then to a succession of parishes populated by Catholics from Ecuador, China, Peru, and Puerto Rico, ending up at a Gothic church full of devout Filipinos. [Read More]

The St. Patrick's Day parade is split in New York City, as in many others, between the traditional parade sponsored by the Ancient Order of Hibernians, and an "inclusive" march which was created to include homosexual activist groups. The Hibernians have had to fight like the dickens to keep their parade permit for Manhattan--citing as a last resort the First Amendment, reminding the City and themselves that they are, after all, a Roman Catholic organization. Indeed, the Order was founded in 1836 as a kind of militia to defend Catholic churches from getting burned down by Protestant mobs. [Read More]

Once an ostensibly pro-life Catholic, Giuliani decided to shed such high-minded baggage to win election in New York City, and he hasn’t looked back since. Now Giuliani is the leader of the faction in the Republican party which supports abortion on demand. (Like most philanderers, he finds it a handy fallback.) This issue, the most profound moral scandal since the slave trade, trumps everything else in the minds of millions of voters—as it does for me. By comparison with abortion, with the conscious, voluntary murder of over a million children a year, every other issue is essentially a fart in a bath tub. [Read More]

Do your pets have telepathy? Mine don’t, and I’m a little disappointed. Because many pets do—close to half of dogs and 1/3 of cats, according to iconoclast British scientist Rupert Sheldrake, author of Dogs That Know When Their Owners Are Coming Home, and several other daring works in scientific theory. [Read More]

Dear Wordworm, I received your recent note, which was rife with glee as you reflected on the ongoing string of statements made by American Catholic bishops and lay politicians in support of unregulated immigration into that country. You positively gloated at the temporary alliance of the Enemy’s most short-sighted clerics with politicians who are so thoroughly in our pocket that at times “one almost forgets that they are not yet in Hell, but still technically alive”—all united in flagrant contempt for laws which are at once just, necessary, and prudent. You chortled like an apprentice tempter at this ménage, in particular at the bold pretence that flooding a country already unfriendly towards the unskilled and the unlucky with millions more strong backs and willing hands to drive down wages was an act of “compassion” on behalf of the Enemy’s poor... [Read More]