Video of first Tsunami Waves Hitting Samoa

As a public service announcement, let's review Tidal Wave Rule #1 : When you see a tsunami, or even something that looks like it might be a tsunami, rolling in from the ocean, do not stop to take pictures of it with your tricked-out camera. Bad things will happen.

These waves and the earthquakes that are causing them (Samoa, Indonesia) are killing hundreds of people, maybe more. Let's not forget to pray for these folks who are suffering through these terrible ordeals. There's no reason to imagine that we in the U.S. won't get hit with something similar at some point.

Below is an interview with an eyewitness to the waves:

If you'd like to help honor Archbishop Chaput, please act now

With just a week left to go, I don't want anyone to miss the opportunity to get a seat (or table, if you'd like) at our Envoy Institute event next week in Charlotte (October 8th), to honor Archbishop Charles J. Chaput of Denver for his courageous public leadership on Catholic moral issues (among other issues). If you’d like to reserve a seat or table for yourself (or your group), please click here or click the blue banner above.

Also, if I may ask a favor of you, we have many priests, religious, seminarians and college students on a waiting list to attend this event. They very much want to be present to hear Archbishop Chaput, George Wiegel, Joseph Bottum (First Things Magazine), Fr. John Corapi, Supreme Knight Carl Anderson, and others who will speak that evening.

If you can, please sponsor a table so that we can seat these priests, students, etc. The Hilton charges us for everyone who attends, so we do need to have every seat paid for!

Any donation you can make to help us with these expenses would be a great help. You can do so securely by clicking here.

Please think about what this means today, in the culture we live in. Many Catholics stood up to honor the late Ted Kennedy for his life's work, invoking his “Catholicism,” even though so much of what he did in his public life was directly contrary to what the Catholic Church teaches.

The University of Notre Dame — once widely considered the flagship Catholic university in the U.S. — dished out major accolades and honors to the president, a man who has made it his life’s work to promote and protect the hideous evil of abortion. You can see the problem.

I believe we need to be just as willing to stand up, speak out, and publicly support this man — Archbishop Charles Chaput — for his untiring, courageous public defense of Catholic teaching. He really puts his Catholic beliefs into action in the public square. And I want to stand up and publicly honor and encourage him for that.

Will you help me?

I hope to see you in Charlotte on October 8th!

Thanks, Everybody!

Well, now that Patrick is back in the saddle and posting away, I guess I can turn in early.

Actually this is a picture taken by my son during a recent backyard campout…one of only three campouts I’ve been on in my 49 years (the first was in an aunt’s suburban backyard, the second was on a baseball diamond in my native Jersey City…as an urban cub scout that counted as the great outdoors).

Perhaps, one day, my son and I will set out on a real camping adventure (if the neighbors don’t mind us using their yard).

I want to thank you all for your kind attention these past two weeks as I enjoyed an adventure in blogging courtesy of Patrick’s kind invitation to sub for him while he was away. It’s been a pleasure spending time with you.

For those of you who are Envoy subscribers, I’ll see you next issue in my “Rocking the Cradle Catholic” department. For those of you who aren’t subscribers, I hope you’ll consider signing up. Envoy is a fun way to learn about our Catholic faith.

Did You Hear the One About How the Pope Will Be the Beast of Revelation?

This theory has been making the rounds for a few hundred years now, and it typically centers on the (bogus) claim that one of the popes' alleged official Latin titles — Vicarius Filii Dei (Vicar of the Son of God) — is the fulfillment of the infernal "number of the beast," described by St. John in Revelation 13:17-18:

“[I]t causes all, both small and great, both rich and poor, both free and slave, to be marked on the right hand or the forehead, so that no one can buy or sell unless he has the mark, that is, the name of the beast or the number of its name. This calls for wisdom: let him who has understanding reckon the number of the beast, for it is a human number, its number is six hundred and sixty-six.”

In this audio clip from my EWTN TV series, "Pope Fiction," I give you a basic overview of how to debunk this argument.

NY State Says: "Get Vaccinated or Get Fired"

Hmmmm...

What do you suppose the reaction would have been to these kids playing overtly Christian tunes?

What's wrong with this picture?

I just learned that this Wednesday, New York's Empire State Building will light up red and yellow to commemorate the 60th anniversary of COMMUNIST CHINA.

Am I the only one seeing Red here?

Dear Elliot . . .

Pray for Your Brothers and Sisters in the Philippines

There's more in-depth information (and more pictures) regarding this catastrophic flooding at the Catholic Seeking blog.

Catholic Grocery Store Owner Under Attack for Displaying Crucifix

My friend Richard Lane brought this irksome story to my attention, and so I now bring it to yours:

“It startled me. It seemed so out of place” was the comment of a patron of the new downtown Schnucks Grocery Store in St. Louis, Missouri. While driving to work this morning, my wife and I were listening to commentary KMOX Radio on this issue and then I went online to get the story from St. Louis Today Website.

Basically the person who felt the Crucifix was ‘out of place’, (also was Jewish – I am in no means insinuating that all Jewish brothers and sisters feel this way) went out of their way to write a letter to their local Jewish Newspaper on this issue complaining about what many say is the ‘obvious symbol of not just Christianity, but Roman Catholicism, since the dying Corpus of Christ was placed on a Cross. Obviously people are disapproving of this display of someone’s faith, Culinaria (Store) Manager Tom Collora, Jr., who is a parishioner at the Old Cathedral, located in downtown St. Louis, Missouri.

"It's bad taste and bad business. Who wants to (shop) where someone else's faith is being pushed down your throat?" were the comments from an Atheist who lives next to the store. Personally, if this Atheist was so loyal to his cause, then he should not be using United States Currency, which displays this Country’s Faith… but this is not the point in my opinion.

What Mr. Collora has done, is answer the call of the New Evangelization, specifically the Mandate of Christ to ‘Go an make disciples’ by sharing our Faith; by sharing the Salvific Message of the Corpus of the Messiah on the Cross, which is not a sign of exclusion, but the opposite; this is the Glorious Sign of Inclusion into the Body (all pun intended) of Christ, who was ‘lifted up’, suffered, died and rose three days later in Triumph over death.

According to Pope Paul VI; the Roman Catholic Church exists so that She may Evangelize, taking the Eternal Message of Salvation to every end of the earth, every Home, Hamlet and Hovel; every Town, City, State, Country and Territory; Our (Roman Catholics) mission is to share the GOOD NEWS of Salvation through Jesus Christ to all mankind… and as Christ told us; “Do not be afraid!”

As one who has given up a secular life to continue to proclaim the Gospel, I applaud Mr. Collora and wish the other 1 Billion Catholics around the World would imitate his example. . . . (continue reading)

Discouraged by Your Failures? Watch This

The price you've got to pray...

My earliest memories of prayer are wonderful.

Mom would sit on the edge of my bed and lead me through—if memory serves—an Our Father, a Hail Mary, a Glory Be, and a prayer for vocations (I’ve often wondered if that vocations prayer was my Dublin-born godmother’s idea, since she always wanted me to be the first Irish pope...the fact that I’m second generation American notwithstanding).

When I eventually left home to venture the two blocks uphill to grade school, my prayer experiences got a little less rosy.

You know what I mean. Any Catholic school kid who ever went to confession can remember slogging through a handful of Hail Marys and Our Fathers as if they were a cold pile of mashed potatoes Mom was forcing you to eat.

“Hey, what happened to Joey? I haven’t seen him around.”

“He’s doing ten to twenty.”

“Years?”

“Worse. Hail Marys.”

How can I say such a thing about the Hail Mary? Easy.

Hand a rosary to your average cradle Catholic who has grown up being told, essentially, “You’ve been bad. Now, you have to say prayers.” and see how excited he gets. He doesn’t see the rosary as a beautiful meditation. He sees it as five consecutive sentences of ten prayers each (not to mention the between-decades stuff).

Who ever came up with the idea of prayer as punishment? Granted, it takes some serious thought to figure out constructive penances for grade school kids, but setting up our most beloved traditional prayers as a price to be paid just doesn’t seem right.

Reinforcing it for the rest of our lives doesn’t seem right, either, especially when adults are capable of much more in the way of sacrifice.

Here’s something the Catechism of the Catholic Church says about penance, “It can consist of prayer, an offering, works of mercy, service of neighbor, voluntary self-denial, sacrifices, and above all the patient acceptance of the cross we must bear” (CCC 1460).

Not to sound all revisionist like the Jesus Seminar, but I just can’t bring myself to believe that the Our Father was intended as a cross to bear. There are a good number of options listed there, yet we still go to confession only to be rapped spiritually over the knuckles with prayer most of the time. In addition to ruining perfectly good prayers, it lets us off the hook much too easily.

Of course, maybe we—and even some well meaning souls who taught us—have all missed the point of those prayers. Maybe we should look at them less as old, cold mashed potatoes and more as a way to wallow in the presence of the Father we’ve just renewed our relationship with.

After all, the Catechism also says, “Prayer is the life of the new heart” (CCC 2697).

"Tisk, Tisk, Tosca"

Greetings dear readers. My apologies for the long gap between postings. The last week brought many unforeseen challenges that prevented your stand-in-scribe from submitting his daily postings. But, alas. I'm back!

Following up on my Sept. 17th posting regarding the reports of a potentially sacrilegious season opening production of Puccini's Tosca. It turns out that the production was "cleaned up" prior to its opening night. Read Catholic League President Bill Donohue's posting on the dress rehearsal he attended. Nevertheless, the Director merited the boos and jeers of a disapproving audience that did not appreciate the many liberties taken with this classic opera.

I believe that this is a clear case of "The Fat lady singing". (I'm sorry, I couldn't resist.)

It was a dark, but wiggly, night...

It’s been something of an odd twenty-four hours, at Chez Moore. My brother-in-law, his wife and two kids arrived for a visit yesterday and promptly took ill.

Before you get the wrong idea, I do not normally have this effect on my in-laws.

My nephew was sick the day before they arrived but had, quote, “a miraculous recovery,” inspiring enough parental confidence to make the trip.

Last night went well, as did this morning…but as the day progressed, things changed.

At this writing, my niece is in bed doing her best impression of a damp rag, my brother-in-law has requested a stool and sequestered himself in a bathroom, my sister-in-law is stumbling about weakly as her strength seeps back, and my little nephew is happy as a clam, oblivious to the fact that he has inoculated those who love him most with something icky.

I suppose my son can look forward to a day off from school sometime this week, courtesy of his cousins—albeit an uncomfortable one. Let’s just hope it doesn’t hit him and my wife on the same day.

If it hits ME, well…I’ll probably be quite a crybaby about it, giving my wife those annoying glances that say, MY family never brings a pox upon our house.

But of course, God always brings greater good out of bad situations. Sitting here tonight, we watched one of my nephews favorite DVDs, featuring The Wiggles—one of the most welcome contributions of all time to the world of children’s entertainment.

That DVD took me back to many wonderful hours of hanging out with my son back in the day, enjoying The Wiggles on video, playing their songs for him on my guitar, singing along with their recordings in the car, and even catching them live from first row seats.

We even waited for them like groupies near their tour bus to meet them after the show. For the record, they are VERY nice guys.

One of the most impressive things about our pre-school days as a Wiggles family was a video called “Wiggly, Wiggly Christmas,” which contains a song called “Unto Us this Holy Night.” It’s a great song and was accompanied by a traditional Nativity pageant.

That’s right…in this world of watered down “holiday” celebrations, The Wiggles came from Australia to remind America that Christmas is at heart, a birthday party for a baby named Jesus.

A brief look on the web will tell you that at least one of The Wiggles is a devout Catholic, which makes me happy. Whether any of the others are or not, they have not only stood up for The Birthday Boy, but they have done marvelous things for children…and for parents who have had the pleasure of joining their kids in a wonderful, wiggly, relationship-deepening experience.

Days of wine and poses...

Just enjoyed a nice glass of wine with a pretty decent pizza...which reminded me of the great privilege Jesus gives to wine every day during every Mass said throughout the world...which reminded me of a piece from issue 6.1 of Envoy:

When my wife and I first met, she was in the wine business. No stranger to the finer things in life, myself, I took her to an Irish restaurant and bar on Third Avenue in New York on our first date—a place that boasted a selection of no fewer than seven wines.

I’ll never forget being handed the wine list that night. Short thought it was it might as well have been written in Aramaic. Never before had I navigated a selection of wines in the presence of a woman who knew wine. The only thing I was confident about was that my standard routine of thoughtfully examining the cork and pretending to know what that first dribble out of the bottle was supposed to take like was NOT going to fly.

After several very long seconds, I turned the choice over to Mary Ann and had a dating experience most men only dream about having. She saved me money! Declaring every selection wildly over-priced, she suggested that we forget about ordering wine.

What a woman!

Now, don’t take that story to mean that every wine with a reasonable price is worth drinking. There is such a thing as too cheap to possibly be any good.

For various unpleasant reasons, I once spent a lot of time consuming large amounts of a particular jug wine. I had long since put it aside when Mary Ann came along, but the damage had been done—not to my liver but to my tongue. I couldn’t have told you the difference between a cab and a Tab.

I shiver at the sight of those jugs nowadays. In fact, I shivered that very shiver in the sacristy of my parish church recently while preparing to serve as lector for Mass.

There it sat, that familiar old jug, its noxious contents having been poured out for use at Mass.

What about truth in advertising? I thought. About the closest that stuff comes to being the work of human hands is when somebody puts it on the shelf at a liquor store.

I was so appalled that I couldn’t get the thought out of my mind as Communion approached. How could I possibly receive properly when I was certain to wince while drinking from the chalice?

And what about poor Jesus? I only had to drink the stuff. He had to transubstantiate it. Nice way to treat our savior.

Eventually, I approached the altar, took the chalice and drank. The reality of what I was doing struck me at the same time and I didn’t wince. I experienced an unexpected sweetness and turned back toward my pew, startled.

It was like Cana all over again.

As is his habit, God had done something great with something lowly. At the moment of consecration that wine was turned from something graceless into something full of grace. Its not-so-subtle flavor was still there—but it was eclipsed by the sweet sacrifice of the Eucharist.

Changing that wine into himself was an incredible act of humility for our Lord. Of course, changing a bottle of even the finest wine into himself is every bit as humble.

I only wish I could have been within a light year of such humility that day. My gripe, of course, had more to do with my past failings than with the quality of the wine. But instead of shoving my insignificant personal meanderings aside to bask in the glimpse of heaven that Holy Communion offers, I chose to indulge myself in a pointless riff on cheap wine.

But hey, what’s the point of being a cradle Catholic if you can’t act like you belong in a cradle once in awhile?