Seen and Unseen - Catholicus

Meant to post on Valentine's Day before but was too busy trying to force feed myself chocolate before the onset of Lent.  I feel like one of those French geese with the swollen livers.

Where was I?  On Sunday morning the boys "treated" us to breakfast in bed at half eight for Valentines day.  Sugar Puffs for me and mini shredded wheat for my wife.  Could have seen them far enough really but had to pretend, even though I'd had a bowl of sugar puffs at about 2am already - the sugar puffs were a birthday present from my children the week before.  "You'll never guess what this one is, daddy" they all yelled as I lifted the carefully wrapped present.  "Is it a box of sugar puffs?" says I - revealing that daddy really does know everything.

Anyway, the breakfast was Patrick's idea;  Michael was quietly muttering "I think this is a bad idea".  Despite my reservations I was rather touched by their thought.

They has also made cards.  One of them read like a weird stalker suicide note:
 
To Mam
Very important are you.
On this day a man was killed - his name was Valentine
Life is good with you
Every day you make me smile
Now you know you're the best mam in the world
Time is good with you
I think you're the best mam in the world
Nothing is good without you
Everything is good with you.

I think this is an interesting story from a couple of angles.  Basically a Gaelscoil (Irish language school) in Port Laoise is causing trouble about wanting to receive the sacraments (First Confession and Communion) in Irish.  The problem with this, of course, is that it then becomes impossible for the children to make their second, third and future confessions without planning by the school.  But then most children only go to confession when school organises it.

Have a read of this shorter version from Catholic Ireland News.  The language and tone shows up the attitude of so many parents, schools and teachers to the sacraments - "School principal Dominic Ó'Braonáin wrote to parents last week saying that it had been decided not to proceed with the First Confession arrangements proposed by the parish.

He told them that parents are, “unhappy with the arrangements that the parish proposes for the celebration of the sacraments involving the Gaelscoil."

“It is the express will of the parents and school management that the sacraments be celebrated in Irish," the principal continued."

What this version of the story leaves us is that there are other parents who take a more inclusive, dare we say "Catholic" view.  From the Leinster Leader we learn that the Chairman of the Parents Council offered to resign over the issue:

"Chairperson of Parents Council, Pauline Madigan, has also offered her resignation over the issue. She said she feels she cannot represent the parents if she does not share their viewpoint.

Speaking to the Leinster Express on Tuesday morning, Ms Madigan said: "I think it's more important to be part of the overall community of Portlaoise."

Ms Madigan offered her resignation at a meeting on Monday night (February 8), but it was not accepted. "My resignation was not accepted but I still don't feel that it is fair for me to represent the parents, when I have a different opinion to them."

Ms Madigan said she did not wish to tarnish the good name of the school, as the staff and principal do exemplary work.

"I am proud to have my children attend the Gaelscoil," she said, "but I feel it is far more important for my child to receive the sacrament with the rest of the Parish."

So the Irish bishops are off in Rome for two days of meetings/dressing down with the Holy Father.  I have to say the whole thing has me appalled and outraged.  So many of our bishops seem to have learned nothing - even after all these years, countless meetings etc they still don't know how to wear their pectoral crosses.  Almost all of them are wearing them like Anglican bishops.  What hope is there for the Church?



And then the attempts of some of them to kiss the Holy Father's ring, or in the case of Willy Walsh to avoid kissing his ring.

But most alarming and frightening of all is who's in charge back here in Ireland.  Two days with Donal McKeown looking after the shop.  Sure what could go wrong?

Meanwhile Joe Little of RTE is presenting the event as Pope Benedict accepting responsibility and blame for the whole thing.

I don't think so Joe.  Presumably this is part of the campaign to squeeze money out of the Holy See.

“Abstinence in itself is not a bad thing,” says Breedagh Hughes, of the Royal College of Midwives according to a story in the Irish Times today.

Why are these people so opposed to the notion that it might be a good idea for fifteen year olds to not have sex?  Are they afraid of lost contraceptive sales?  Is it a judgement on their own past behaviour?

Audrey Simpson, the rather nasty director of the Northern Ireland Family Planning Association, sees a value in a school's ethos - so she says, but it is very hard to see what the value is.  She opines:

“the ethos of the school is important but schools must ensure that their RSE programme is respectful and sensitive to those pupils, teachers and parents who are gay, who choose to have sex outside marriage using various methods of contraception to avoid pregnancy or getting an STI, or who will for very personal reasons choose at some point in their lives to end a pregnancy.”

So a Catholic school must support homosexuality, fornication, adultery, contraception and abortion.  Not really seeing the importance of the ethos there, Audrey.

Further news from Canada reveals that there is a more human angle to this scandal of the Ambassador's residence. 

It seems that during the work, when the walls were stripped, the water and hydro (electricity to you and me) disconnected, the windows missing, somebody thought it would be a good idea to make the housekeeper continue living there "for security reasons".  "She's from the Philippines so they're used to those sort of condidtions" said nobody in particular.

A complaint from a concerned citizen to DFAIT, which doesn't take kindly to this sort of thing, resolved the matter and the lady in question was moved to move appropriate digs.

Meanwhile across town the representation of the European Commission in Canada had a fiasco involving financial irregularities, questionable leases, etc. Pretty much all dip staff were summoned to Brussels and never returned. For most of spring & summer 2009 it was run by temp staff from Brussels. Perhaps that might explain why the website has listed no social or outreach activity since 2007.  As of October, there is a new head of mission; a mad German. Their new offices take up two floors (Metcalfe & Laurier).  However both floors are incomplete due to lack of funds. Moreover, builder and building management are in court trying to recoup monies.

Long time readers will know that I am a regular reader of the Ottawa Citizen.  They have an interesting story on the Irish Ambassador's residence in Rockcliffe Park.  Apparently it's now the biggest house in Rockcliffe Park (though I think the enormous French ambassador's residence (enormous residence, not Ambassador, who must now all by tiny so as to reflect well on the President).

Canadians are funny people - on the one hand reserved, on the other you can always find a worker willing to talk:

Coming in at more than twice the floor space of Prime Minister Stephen Harper's official residence at 24 Sussex Drive, with a re-construction tab exceeding $7 million, the 24,000-square-foot, four-storey house is now the accommodation envy of the diplomatic corps in Ottawa.

Embassy staff did not return repeated calls requesting an interview with Kelly and a tour of the residence, but a worker on the site proudly showed me blueprints of a project packed with every conceivable luxury and ornate columns rising to the roof.

"All that's missing is a throne for Caesar," the worker grinned. "I've never worked on anything like this before."

The usual excuse of asbestos has been brought out. 

I wonder how much was spent on daffodils, always expensive in that part of the world, if I recall correctly.  Also security measures to keep out squirrels can be very costly.

I suppose that's what happens when you get years of neglect.  I expect no work had been done on the house since it was built in the 1930s.

A boy in my son's class asked the teacher the other day a question about geometry.  "Sir, if there's three dimensional things, does that mean you can have one dimensional things?"

To which the teacher replied "em, er, em I'm really not sure about that".

Michael (10) stuck his hand up and told them about lines.



Speaking of dimensions, I had an hilarious (to me) experience the other day.  I was waiting for lift - the doors opened and inside was an enormously tall woman - she must have been at least 6'6".  Beside her stood a man with a step-ladder.  It was a perfect visual joke.  I just had to back into the lift and stare at the doors while trying not to laugh.

Speaking of the comic - have you seen this story about gay "bishop" Robinson?  He claims that:

“We have to understand that the notion of a homosexual sexual orientation is a notion that’s only about 125 years old," Bishop Robinson told CNSNews.com. "That is to say, St. Paul was talking about people that he understood to be heterosexual engaging in same-sex acts.  It never occurred to anyone in ancient times that a certain minority of us would be born being affectionally oriented to people of the same sex.”

So it's a sin for a heterosexual to be a homosexual but not for a homosexual to be a homosexual.  Presumably it's also okay for a murderer to kill someone, but not for anyone else.

Glad we've cleared that up.

Was watching The Meaning of Life with Gay Byrne on RTE 1 tonight, interviewing Bertie Ahern.

I try to avoid Gay like the plague that he is - he was bad enough when he was in full employment but has become much worse since he retired.  He's like one of those annoying paintings that frequent the walls of the Headmaster's Office in Hogwarts - dead but still there annoying and advising in the smuggest way imaginable.

Bertie is very polished as usual but really it is wearing a bit thin.  The questions were all about God and life and the answers were homey and occasionally serious, giving up the drink for the Holy Souls in November, praying with Ian Paisley, a genuine belief in the Real Presence, though of course asked and answered in the slightly embarrassed way you'd expect of men of that generation.  It was going reasonably well, I was thinking "well at least he believes and tries his best to practise, even within the marital situation he created for himself" when he revealed that he hadn't been to confession in over forty years and that he didn't believe in it and he felt himself perfectly capable of talking to God himself without a priest.

In other words, he's a protestant.

I've had difficulites uploading over the last week so apologies for avid readers.

I see that news is emerging that the sub-planet Pluto is becoming redder:

"A new examination of photographs of Pluto from the Hubble Space Telescope shows the dwarf planet changing colors and at one point getting redder in what may indicate distinct changes of seasons, National Geographic News says.

The photographs, taken from 2002 to 2003, were compiled in a four-year project that involved 20 computers running simultaneously, lead investigator Marc Buie, of the Southwest Research Institute in Boulder, Colo., tells reporters."

Failed US Presidential candidate, Al Gorge, and Rajendra Pachauri, Head of Intergovernmental Panel on Climate Conspiracy (IPCC) immediately cited the news as clear and irrefutable evidence of the effects of personmade global warming.

"If we do not take immediate steps to destroy the world's economy", opined Vice President Bore, "we can be certain that Pluto's nose will dry up and his tail will wilt.  And all this by 2035.  Now where did I leave that grilled cheese sandwhich?"

Last week I had a tooth extracted - a joy and delight in itself.  I asked the dentist before hand - "is this a case of brute force?"  "Oh no" says he, "just firm, consistent pressure".  Actually it wasn't too bad and I was able to look down my nose (without feeling my nose, eyes, or lips) at the wimps who need sedation.

But the week after I developed a pleasurable little thing called a "dry socket" - when your blood doesn't clot and and you have direct access to jaw bone.  The cure, today, is lots of poking with a long pointy needle, followed by stuffing with vile antiseptic stuff which, I'm told, will melt away, hopefully quicker than the Himilayan glaciers.