BE PROUD OF BEING A CATHOLIC!

Life isn't tied with a bow, but it's still a gift.

Below are excerpts of an article written by non-Catholic Sam Miller – a prominent Cleveland Jewish businessman:

"Why would newspapers carry on a vendetta on one of the most important institutions that we have today in the United States , namely the Catholic Church?

Do you know - the Catholic Church educates 2.6 million students everyday at the cost to that Church of 10 billion dollars, and a savings on the other hand to the American taxpayer of 18 billion dollars. The graduates go on to graduate studies at the rate of 92%.

The Church has 230 colleges and universities in the U.S. with an enrollment of 700,000 students.

The Catholic Church has a non-profit hospital system of 637 hospitals, which account for hospital treatment of 1 out of every 5 people - not just Catholics - in the United States today

But the press is vindictive and trying to totally denigrate in every way the Catholic Church in this country. They have blamed the disease of pedophilia on the Catholic Church, which is as irresponsible as blaming adultery on the institution of marriage.

Let me give you some figures that Catholics should know and remember. For example, 12% of the 300 Protestant clergy surveyed admitted to sexual intercourse with a parishioner; 38% acknowledged other inappropriate sexual contact in a study by the United Methodist Church , 41.8% of clergy women reported unwanted sexual behavior; 17% of laywomen have been sexually harassed.

Meanwhile, 1.7% of the Catholic clergy has been found guilty of pedophilia. 10% of the Protestant ministers have been found guilty of pedophilia. This is not a Catholic Problem.

A study of American priests showed that most are happy in the priesthood and find it even better than they had expected, and that most, if given the choice, would choose to be priests again in face of all this obnoxious PR the church has been receiving.

The Catholic Church is bleeding from self-inflicted wounds. The agony that Catholics have felt and suffered is not necessarily the fault of the Church. You have been hurt by a small number of wayward priests that have probably been totally weeded out by now.

Walk with your shoulders high and your head higher. Be a proud member of the most important non-governmental agency in the United States .

Then remember what Jeremiah said: 'Stand by the roads, and look and ask for the ancient paths, where the good way is and walk in it, and find rest for your souls'. Be proud to speak up for your faith with pride and reverence and learn what your Church does for all other religions.

Be proud that you're a Catholic."

I am so proud to be a Catholic.  I was introduced to the Catholic faith in the first grade at St. Bridget's School in Indianapolis, Indiana a long, long time ago.  I was not Catholic, but I watched with great envy as my friends prepared for their First Holy Communion and other special things that only Catholics could do.  I have wonderful memories of the Sisters of Providence who taught us.  One, Sr. Agnella, was not the nicest nun, but she and I tolerated each other.  The first and second graders were in one room.  In another were the third and fourth graders. Our third grade teacher is still alive and still remembers us by name! Amazing! She came to us so young and so sweet. She always had a smile and still does.

I lived with my grandmother.  She made me wear snuggies - they were underwear that you wore over  panties and they came down to the knees. They were made of something warm. Well, I decided I was not going to wear them all day in class, so I usually took them off and tucked them in my coat sleeve
in the cloakroom, and put them back on when school ended for the day.  One day, in the early afternoon, one of those wicked boys stood in the doorway of the cloakroom waving a pair of snuggies.  From the doorway he called out, "Who do these belong to?" The class burst out laughing. I was mortified. At first I was going to ignore him, but then I realized that I could not go home without those snuggies.  So, I mustered up the courage and stood up and snatched them out of his hands and sailed into the cloakroom. I stayed in there as long as I could, and then I went back to my desk. I never looked at Sr. Agnella or that bad boy!  Thereafter, I kept on my snuggies rather than risk him waving them like a flag!

The students attended Mass five days a week, and those who lived near a Catholic Church were expected to attend Mass on Sundays. I attended Mass six days a week - how I loved it! - and on Sundays, after Mass, my grandmother took me with her to Sunday School and church services at her Baptist church across the street from St. Bridget's.  I did not understand why people in her church had to "get happy" and scream and shout and fall out.  The music was loud and I was very, very unhappy, but I dared not say anything to my grandmother. In the summer we went to evening services in a tent a few blocks away.  It was hot and I was miserable.  I ached to be in the Catholic Church with its dim lighting, incense, the statues and, above all, the quietness. Masses were said in Latin and I knew every word of the Mass.  My grandmother and I lived in one room in a rooming house one block from my school. I guess I thought I would always attend that school.  But life stepped in, and my grandmother became ill. Within a very short time she died. I was ten years old and felt so alone. I had been with my grandmother every day of my life since I was born. Suddenly she was gone, and nothing would ever be the same.

My aunt and uncle where we had moved to began urging my mother to go out with some man my uncle knew.  He was a strange man. He never talked to me; in fact, he never even looked at me when he came to take Mother out on a date. She had been seeing another man who drove us to Kentucky for my grandmother's funeral.  I prayed that she would marry him.  He was funny, loved our family, loved me, and he was a joy to be around. Eventually my mother married the other man and suddenly we moved to a house in the suburbs, far from my school and my beloved Church, and all of my friends. I was enrolled in a public school.  Once a week the students in my class were taken to some church for some sort of religious instructions.  When I told Mother that I did not want to go, she notified the school that I was Catholic and would not be attending those classes. My world had been turned upside down.

Our first Sunday in that strange neighborhood I thought Mother would be going to church.  She began preparing an elaborate breakfast which came to be the usual Sunday breakfast - steak and gravy, potatoes, biscuits and apple sauce and/or fried apples. I was accustomed to going to church. But the family said I was too young to take two trolleys across town to go to St. Bridget's. I asked Mother if I could become a Catholic. She said, "If you still feel that way when you turn 15, then you can become a Catholic."  Thereafter I went to various churches with friends, but nothing appealed to me. I knew that I had to be in some church every Sunday, and so I persevered.  The day after my 15th birthday I reminded Mother of her promise, and she agreed! I was going to become a Catholic! I wanted to shout it from the tallest building in Indianapolis! I was ecstatic! Finally, I was going to be a Catholic! A few months later I was baptized and I was a proud, proud Catholic. Thereafter, every member of my family lived by the motto:  "If you promise Charlene something, you have to do it because she will not forget it."

The family became proud of my Catholicism.  When my uncles or aunts or my mother introduced me to someone they usually said, "This is my niece, Charlene.  And she's Catholic!" The other person would look at me as if I had horns and a cloven hoof! I would smile proudly.  It was hilarious! "This is my daughter. She's Catholic you know." How on earth would that person know?  Such introductions just made me smile. I was the odd one in the family. I was the hatchet woman when somebody in the family  had to get tough, and of course I was also a Catholic.  It was said with such pride, and never failed to amaze me.  How many people do you know who are introduced to someone with,"This is my daughter. She's Catholic." I loved it! I thought it odd, but loved the reaction it got.

Yes, I was Catholic and proud of it! I will never cease to be proud of being a Catholic. The sex abuse crisis got every one's attention, but I wrote to some priests in prison. I wanted to know how they were being treated. The responses were astonishing. I continued to write to them and added others as they went to prison. I have been told by many priests that my work is admirable. Of course they can't say that out loud and I understand why. Priests in prison seldom, if ever, have visits from their brother priests.  I don't know of any bishops who have encouraged their priests to visit priests in prison. They are so afraid of the two vile groups, SNAP and VOTF.  I love these priests that families and friends and brother priests have turned their backs on.  I love them because our Lord loves them. They thank me for writing to them, for contacting their bishops when necessary or a health unit, for sending books, etc. They have enriched my life beyond belief. If I live to see Fr. Gordon MacRae freed from those stone walls, I would die happily.  His was a wrongful conviction and he has served 19 years for crimes that did not happen. I firmly believe that, as do a number of his virtual parishioners. If he dies in prison, I know that his cell will become very special because a true saint lived in it. He has touched so many lives. I know what he does for others because I am his hands and feet. I read to him the touching emails from those who love him, and even from those who don't - definitely a minority.  He is an amazing man. I hope that he will one day write his own story - no one else could do it justice.

Yes, we are Catholics. We should stand tall and proud! What a Holy Father we have! He is spectacular - moving quietly, not listening to anybody (if anybody dares offer him advice), and he is one of us. He is one with the people. I am so proud of him! He is extraordinary in his simpleness, in his desire to hug people, to dispense with the robes and ermine trim, and to stay in his little guest house and to eat in the dining room with others - notably not the Curia - but with the common people. Ah, I can see members of the Curia lying on the floor kicking in sheer frustration. Just wait.  They haven't seen anything yet!!

My mother died in 1995 four months after I retired and moved back to Indianapolis.  In her purse I found an old leather case that contained a Rosary. I had no idea that she had carried that Rosary that I left behind when I moved to New York City in 1956. I never knew. It must have meant something special to her even because it was special to me and my Catholicism.  How I wished I had known.

I am a Catholic! Be proud Catholics! Hold your heads up high! Viva Cristo Rey! Viva Pope Francis!

A FINAL PUSH FOR THESE STONE WALLS! 

Dear friends These Stone Walls is at this moment just 3 percentage points away from first place in the category of Best Catholic Blog. It would mean a lot to the morale of falsely accused priests, and the priesthood itself, to win this thing, something that seemed impossible just a few weeks ago. The voting ends at midnight tonight. 

WE NEED YOUR VOTE! IT WOULD BE A TREMENDOUS BOOST FOR FR. GORDON!

Can you please ask your FB and Twitter friends to consider going to this link to cast a vote for These Stone Walls? May God bless your effort - and you!

http://catholicism.about.com/library/bl-readers-choice-awards-best-catholic-blog.htm

THESE STONE WALLS IS A FINALIST FOR BEST CATHOLIC BLOG!

In a time of controversy in the priesthood, These Stone Walls, the blog of a falsely accused and wrongly imprisoned priest, is a finalist in the About.com Award for Best Catholic Blog. The blog now in the lead pretty much wins this every year, but These Stone Walls has come from behind to make this a closer contest than ever before.

The Key is voting once per day between now and Tuesday, March 19. Please take a moment to visit the About.com Best Catholic Blog ballot page to vote for These Stone Walls.

It would also be a great help if you would share this message with your contacts and social networks.

Thank you and God Bless.

PLEASE NOMINATE THESE STONE WALLS...

EDITOR’S NOTE: Please nominate These Stone Walls for the About Catholicism Reader’s Choice Awards.  Please log in and vote in each of these categories!  Just copy/paste this info:

These Stone Walls

http://thesestonewalls.com

Best Catholic Blog

Best Catholic Website

and for the Facebook category, copy/paste

Fr. Gordon J. MacRae

http://www.facebook.com/gordonj.macrae

Best Catholic Facebook Page

Thank you!  Your nominations will help others know about These Stone Walls.

The Saga of the Bras

THE SAGA OF THE BRAS

Picture this! 

Two mature women – mature as mid-70s, close to 80 years old – are enroute to a beach vacation when they decide to visit a friend, a civil detainee who is detained in a “hospital.”  Once they realized they were close to the “hospital” they decided to stop for a quick visit.

The women went inside , showed their drivers licenses, and a check was done to see if they were wanted by the police in any state, etc. – whatever else they check in a few minutes.  The women proceeded through the metal detector and WHOA! – alarms sounded, the doors locked automatically, the guards drew their weapons and everybody froze.  Since the women had no other metal on them, the guards said it had to be the underwire bras the women had on that set off the alarm. 

One woman, fondly called The Mouth, immediately said, “Well, we’ll simply remove our bras and go on in.” 

The guards, aghast, said, “No way!”  They were not going to have these two elderly women marching around the “hospital” with their boobs bouncing around.  Picture that! 

They were told to go away and return in bras without underwire.  The two women stomped back out into the parking lot – which is a far piece from the entrance to the “hospital.”  There The Mouth removed her bra in the car –visible to anybody passing by – not giving one whit as to who might see her.  She then took from the glove compartment a tiny knife and she cut her bra to enable her to remove the plastic-underwire-touched-by-a-bit of metal .  Once she removed the underwire, she put the wireless bra back on and prepared to retrace her steps to the prison, er, “hospital.”  The other woman did not want to ruin her bra by cutting out the underwire, so she remained in the car.

Meanwhile, upstairs in the “hospital” the visitee was awakened and told to get dressed.  He had gone to bed at 5:30 a.m. and it was now 11 a.m. His normal waking hours were between 2 and 3 pm.  He was understandably a bit confused.  He rushed to get dressed, thinking that he was being taken to the hospital for a back x-ray.  Then he remembered it was a holiday.  He went to the medical unit to see if they had called for him.  No, they reminded him that it was a holiday. 

Meanwhile, in the visiting room, The Mouth was having a fit – to put it mildly! She ranted at the guards in the visiting room that she had been there for 45 minutes and she had another appointment and needed to leave.  Where was the visitee? Had he been notified?

Back upstairs the visitee called someone to see who called him to tell him to get dressed.  He was told he had a visitor.  A visitor? Nobody just dropped in to visit him.  They always called first.  And then he was told it was The Mouth, and she was upset that he was late!

Late? He wondered how he could be late when he didn’t know she was coming in the first place! After combing his hair and flossing, he appeared in the visiting room and was immediately subjected to a bit of The Mouth’s wrath – from the bra episode, to him not showing up, and then being “late.”  When he asked about the other woman, he was told that she was in the car in the parking lot. That is a no-no, and he was surprised that the guards didn’t tell her nobody is allowed to sit in a car on the parking lot.  He immediately told The Mouth that she had to leave and get back to her car.  She promised that they would stop again in a week when they left their beach retreat.   She also said they would not wear underwire bras and would bring him a lot of his favorite foods to eat – that is a perk allowed at that “hospital.”

They say all’s well that ends well.   I say all is well that ends! And that ends the saga of the bras!

Picture this!

OUR NEW SHEPHERD: ARCHBISHOP JOSEPH W. TOBIN

W E L C O M E!

For two days last week I was among a select few invited to participate in the pageantry of the Installation of a beloved Redemptorist, Archbishop Joseph W. Tobin, who is now the Archbishop of Indianapolis.  This holy man is cloaked in spirituality – a palpable spirituality that he would surely deny.  He exudes a spirit of caring, sincerity, and love, and reaches out to others.  My heart soars when Archbishop Tobin speaks of his beloved parents and siblings. His mother and most of his twelve siblings attended both ceremonies.  His mother is fragile, but she was here and oh so proud of her oldest son.  It was touching to see him give Holy Communion to her and his other family members. 

At the end of the two days, I felt as if I had attended a two-day spiritual retreat.  A month ago we learned that we had a new archbishop coming to us after 12 years in Rome. Some said it was a demotion for him, but most of us knew -  without knowing how we knew -  that we were blessed with the appointment of Archbishop Joseph Tobin. We have been praying for over a year that the Lord would send us a good shepherd and He has.  Archbishop Tobin immediately flew to Indianapolis for a whirlwind few days to meet his flock.  During the few days that Archbishop Tobin was in Indianapolis, he celebrated Mass for the seminarians at Marian University; a Mass a The Little Sisters of the Poor and the elderly residing there; he was everywhere, but quietly. At his press conference he was prayerful and humble, humorous, and he paid homage to his predecessor, Archbishop Buechlein, who retired due to illness.  He thanked our Apostolic Administrator Bishop Coyne for guiding us almost immediately after he was named Auxiliary Bishop to assist Archbishop Buechlein.

And then came the ceremonies that began on Sunday, December 2, at a Solemn Evening Prayer for the First Sunday of Advent and Profession of Faith in anticipation of his Installation. At first, the Sunday evening service was to be open to the public, but then it became “by invitation only” due to the large number of religious, family members and friends of Archbishop Tobin. I had looked forward to attending because I knew I would never get an invitation to the Installation Mass – or so I thought.  A nun friend invited me and my house guest to that service. The service was joyful, lots of wonderful music along with the blessing of the Archbishop’s miter, his staff and his pectoral cross.   I walked out of the Cathedral feeling very blessed. And why not – I had just been in the presence of greatness – our new archbishop.

After the Mass we were invited to the Catholic Center (across the street) for refreshments.  What a spread that was! The company sponsoring the reception spared no expense. They apparently served everything they would serve for their own receptions, including hot hors oeuvres, miniature sandwiches, fruits, veggies, many desserts, and an outstanding bar. I chuckled and thought: only Catholics!

Two weeks before the Installation I learned that each of our 147 parishes was given two tickets to give away. I immediately told my parish priest that I would like an invitation to the Installation and he said he would look into it.  That sounded like “no way.”   It was not going to happen. I steamed and stewed! And I wanted one or two if possible. And then came the day that my pastor said I had a ticket! I almost shouted with joy! I then told my house guest that she could have it.  She adamantly refused and insisted that I go. However, she is blessed with the gift of gab, and managed to wheedle her own invitation to the Installation Mass.

The pageantry continued on Monday, December 2 at the SS. Peter and Paul Cathedral.  The Archdiocesan Choir, composed of singers from various choirs in the archdiocese, entertained as we waited for Mass to begin. The voices were angelic and the musical instruments from flutes to trumpets to kettledrums demanded to be heard and appreciated, and they were.  The procession began.  Altar servers were followed by the Knights and Ladies of St. Peter Claver; the Knights and Ladies of Malta, the Knights of Columbus, Knights and Ladies of the Holy Sepulcher, and an Irish group of women from the Orange Order.  Our hundreds of priests and seminarians processed in along with Indiana’s bishops, the few visiting bishops, the Papal Nuncio and finally our Archbishop Tobin.  He must have been nearly blinded by the flashes going off as he was welcomed into the Hoosier state. This saintly and holy man opened his Installation homily with a joke about his girth, and he saluted the largest Catholic group in Indiana – the Notre Dame football fans. He spoke lovingly about the Church reaching out to the “marginalized the forgotten, and those hurt by the Church.”  I have waited for years to hear such words from a bishop.  I was in love!

Some say Archbishop Tobin was removed from the Vatican because he was sympathetic to the U.S. nuns in the cross hairs of some at the Vatican.  His group was responsible for the nuns and their supposed “disobedience.”  I doubt that this holy man would ever have approved the insults and accusations hurled at the very nuns who taught many of us about our faith.  I was not a Catholic when I attended a Catholic school, but I never forgot it. During a very rough period in my young life – which lasted for 9 years – it was the Catholic prayers I was taught, and my mother’s promise that when I reached age 16, I could be baptized in the Catholic faith, that kept me sane. Despite the nightmarish and terrifying events thrust upon me, I knew that our Lord and His Mother were with me.  They have never failed me.

How I wish that each of my priests in prison had had a bishop such as Archbishop Tobin. I can’t wait to tell him all about our priests in prison and what I try to do for them and what they do for me.  I am so blessed to have them in my life. I will always feel that way despite their protestations that they do nothing for me while I do so much for them.  It is a blessing to me to serve these fallen angels who made mistakes in their lives.  Our Lord will judge them and He will judge me.  

And so I rejoice in he who we have awaited – Archbishop Tobin.  He is humble and comes ready to serve.  He has a forever home - here in Indianapolis.  We welcome our Shepherd, and I wish him our Lord's peace and blessings.