The real truth is that God has given us three mothers.  Three? Three! The mother who gave us physical birth, also knows as “Mom”; the Mother who gave us spiritual birth, the Church; and the Mother of a redeemed humanity, the Blessed Virgin Mary. Being a mother is tough. It is a little easier if we had a great mother as an example, but each child is unique, and all of us have to learn some things by trial and, some times, even error.

The other day, listening to KPIO 1570 am radio, I heard a young man, who had come to the priesthood after converting from a life spent in the pursuit of pleasure. Among other things, he said something like: “Mothers are always carrying their children. First in their womb, suffering through pregnancy and childbirth. Then they carry them in their hearts.  Oftentimes, this is the more painful and the longer of the two.” He’s right, I thought. In fact, years ago, when my kids were toddlers, I was talking with a friend when one of my babies stepped on my toes.  Instinctively, I said “Ouch!” My friend immediately said: “That’s nothing. When they are little, they step on your toes. When they are big, they step on your heart.” How many mothers have experienced the truth of that statement?

Those of us who belong to the St. Monica Cenacle, and gather in the Eucharistic Adoration Chapel the 4th Monday of every month to pray for our fallen-away children and/or grandchildren can vouch for that.  Suffering and sacrifice is the prerequisite for motherhood. That, and patience.

Isn’t the same true for our Mother the Church? She gives us birth through Baptism, nourishes us through the Sacraments; tries to teach us what is right and what is wrong; is there for us when we are in trouble and patiently waits for us when we stray, always ready to welcome us back when we are tired of wandering around in all the wrong places.

Then there is our Mother Mary. She is the beautiful face of a redeemed humanity. The one who was able to say “no” to Satan every time that he tried to tempt her away from God, and who said “yes” to God every moment of every day. No wonder so many of us love her! She is our mother, just as Jesus is our brother.  She was His last gift to us, as He hang upon the Cross.

How many of us have turned to Mary when we did not know what to do with our children, asking for her help, knowing that she would understand our grief! She who stood at the foot of the Cross, watching her innocent Son die to save us, will never turn a deaf ear to our troubles, and she’ll present them to her Son, on our behalf. It is no wonder that in Italy just about everywhere we run into small pictures of Mary, painted on walls, or standing as a small chapel by the side of the street. They remind us of the three Mothers that God gave each one of us, out of His infinite love and care. “Love your Mother,” this small street chapel reminds that to every passer by in Grumo (literally, lump or speck), a tiny dot on Lake Como. No, not Gaia.

One day a young man came on business, looked around and said: “I could never live in a place like this! I live in a town of about 10,000 and the other day my wife told me: ‘today the grocer called me by name, this place is too small for us, it’s time to move’.” I just stared at him and thought: “What a sad philosophy of life! Why would anyone live in a place where they are always a stranger?”

Especially today, when families are smaller and scattered around the Country, living in a big city can feel like being a number. You know, “What’s your Social?” “What’s your telephone number?” “Take a number!” I remember a wise old friend telling me: “Dying in a city is like taking a hand out of a pail of water. The water closes over the gap and no one knows the hand is missing.”

And that’s why I always loved small places, like the New Mexican village, or the village in the Alps where nonno’s cabin greeted us every summer. We were known by name, and we felt human. I am convinced that’s how God meant us to live from the beginning.  After all, didn’t He place Adam and Eve in a garden?  And God does not go by numbers. He knows the name of every single person who ever lived and who will ever live. He knows every face, every wrinkle: Jesus tells us that He counts every hair on our heads.  Everywhere in the Bible we read of the care that our Creator takes of every one of us. Like Isaiah 49:15-16: “Can a woman forget the infant at her breast or a loving mother the child of her womb? Even these forget, yet I will not forget you… I have engraved you on the palms of My hands.” In other words we, each one of us, is special.

Well, let me tell you: I knew I was not going to be special to anyone when I first moved to Denver. I remembered the “hand in the bucket of water” example of my old friend and I knew she was right.  So, before looking for a place to live, I looked for a parish where I could feel at home. As a Catholic, I knew that there would always be a place for me there, a place where folks believed what I believed, and would welcome me by name. And I was right.

Holy Trinity is the second parish I have attended since coming to Denver many years ago, and it does feel like a small village in many ways. For instance: I’ve seen babies who were baptized when I first came to Holy Trinity receive their First Communion; children who went through the RE program who are now going to college (help!) and yes, some of the folks who welcomed me in the parish are now with the Lord.

Many of us are growing old, but we are getting there together, so we hardly notice. We pray for those among us who are ill, by name, and we rejoice when they recover. If we haven’t seen someone for a while, we ask around “have you seen so and so? Is everything OK?” We grieve when a fellow parishioner is going through tough times: a lost job, a broken marriage, or rebellious children.

Oh how wise is our Mother Church to give us the parish! Where else could we feel at home, with family, no matter where we are in the world? A few years ago, a friend went to Paris (France, that is) on a business trip. Guess what impressed her the most? “I went to Mass and even though I don’t know French, I understood everything that they were doing and saying! It was just like here!” In other words, in a strange Country, a strange language, she understood because she knew the words by heart, and she felt comfortable. She belonged, and belonging is important to all of us.

Can you imagine living in a town where there’s no Catholic church? And yet there are many such places all over the world, and not only in countries where the Church is overtly persecuted. Some parishes have been closed even in the United States, because of lack of priests. I can think of no worse tragedy than living without the Sacraments, without the Church, without the parish. It would feel like a child lost in a great big place, looking for mom, dad, brothers and sisters and not finding them. A very scary, big, inhuman place, where we don’t belong.

In Cymbalis = with cymbals. These two short Latin words are taken from the 150th Psalm in which the Psalmist exhorts us to “… praise Him with the loudsounding cymbals…” In Latin, that goes: “Laudate Deum in cymbalis bene sonantibus.” In small Italian towns, old men used to gather in a wine pub at the end of the day; play cards and… have a few glasses.  By the time they were done, they thought they were opera singers; unfortunately, to those who were sober it sounded like… clanging cymbals, and when they spoke they made no sense at all. To this day, when someone is loud and nonsensical, we say that they are in cymbalis.

Refugium Peccatorum = Refuge of Sinners. This is one of the Blessed Virgin Mary’s titles. To this day the usual comedians, among which I number my own mother, use these two words to indicate a very messy place. For instance, my bedroom. But also the closet where everyone tosses stuff that doesn’t seem to belong anywhere, or the last box to remain unpacked after a move etc. etc.

Il Cavallo di San Francesco = St. Francis’ Horse. As we all know, St. Francis gave his horse back to his father when he converted and decided to follow the Lord. After that, he travelled everywhere on foot.  Therefore, when we say that we are going to go a long way on foot, we say “I’m going there on St. Francis’ horse.”

Segnarsi col gomito = Making the sign of the Cross with your elbow. I think this is strictly a saying in my part of Italy, the Lake Como region. Go ahead, give it a try and see if you succeed. We use this sentence to say that someone has received an incredible blessing.  For instance, when one of my future uncle’s mother wanted to know more about the woman he was about to marry (one of my aunts), she asked around the town where my mother’s family lived for suitable references on the character of her prospective daughter-in-law. After the wedding, the mother-in-law herself told us that more than one person answered her: “If your son is marrying a Calvetti, he can make the sign of the Cross with his elbow.” Meaning, he was very, very, very fortunate (and so he was, because he married a wonderful, holy woman).

Passa il Vescovo = The Bishop goes by. Those of you who are older than… will remember that, as part of the Confirmation ceremony, the Bishop would go by every confirmand, anoint our foreheads with Crism and then with two fingers gave a light slap on our cheeks. Why did he do that? Because we are taught that on receiving Confirmation we became “soldiers of Christ” and as such we were expected to undergo trials on His behalf. So, the usual comedians, my mother for example, used to warn us if we were misbehaving with the words: Passa il Vescovo? Which was enough to calm us down pretty quickly.

Scherza coi fanti ma lascia stare I Santi = Joke with people but don’t mess with the Saints. The word “fanti” literally means the foot soldier, but in common use, it means all those of us who are still walking the earth. In this proverb, Saints does not necessarily mean only those who are official residents of Heaven.  When our folks taught us to respect the elderly, our teachers, bosses and everyone else whom we met, they would often use this sentence.

For instance, we would NEVER dare “horse around” with out parents: their persons were sacred to us, so unless we kissed or hugged them, we would not dream of touching them. For the same reason, the thought of “sassing” our teachers would never even enter the back of our minds: it was simply unthinkable. I remember how shocked I was when I first came to the U.S. and kids who did not even come up to my knees would call me Nicoletta, instead of Mrs. MacKenzie. Now I’m used to it, but I would NEVER, EVER have called anyone who was not a particular friend or a relative by their first name.  Thinking back on it, I realize the wisdom of that sentence: it is a lot easier to be disrespectful when we call someone by their first name, isn’t it? It is for that reason that, if my children ever took it into their heads to call me anything but mother I think I’d warn them that Passa il Vescovo and he’s coming right now!

Ite Missa Est = Go, the Mass is ended. We still use this Latin sentence to signify that whatever we were doing is done. Or, in the translation of my mother, the comedienne: “Time to go to bed.”

Everything that we wanted. That means, of course, eating all the candy we craved, sleeping until all hours, never taking a bath, no more school, no more washing dishes, cleaning after ourselves etc. etc. Then we move out on our own, and reality strikes. We soon realize that our parents knew what they were talking about and we wished that we had paid more attention when they were trying to teach us how to do things correctly. Many young adults, struggling to balance their first checkbook or pay their bills, quickly realize that most of their paychecks go to boring things like: rent, phone, utilities, and insurance, leaving very little for the fun stuff, like movies, CDs, clothes, trips and eating out. So they charge the credit card to the max: have fun now and pay… whenever. We’ve all heard the stories, and maybe we’ve experienced it ourselves. More growing pains.

And then there are the mental and spiritual growing pains. Remember when, in the middle of the most satisfying tantrum, our mother told us: “Grow up!” What do you mean grow up? I was enjoying yelling and stomping my feet! I don’t want to listen to reason! I don’t want to make a decision based on rational thought!

Unfortunately, I’ve met many adults who simply refuse to grow up. Once I was talking with a married man who was seeing another woman, and I asked: “Are you having sex with this person?” His quick answer was: “What do you think? We are both adults!” I thought: “Really? Do you have any control over your actions?” After hearing the “I’m an adult” excuse for doing the most irresponsible things, I came to the conclusion that most people think that being an adult means being able to do anything and everything they want. How did we ever come to this? Who forgot to tell us that being an adult means to be able to control our impulses, to channel our desires and to act responsibly toward ourselves and others?

Was it parents who tried to be their children’s best friends, or who were too tired after a hard day’s work to discipline them? Was it priests who wanted to be popular and spoke only what, as the Gospel says, “tickled our ears”? Was it our media, who wanted to sell papers, advertising and movies? Or maybe it was a combination of all these. The fact remains that when we look around today we see the sad results of irresponsible adulthood: unwanted pregnancies, drug addictions, financial bankruptcies, widespread depression and even suicides.

Why do I bring this up? Because the other day I asked all R.C.I.A. participants: “What is the most important thing that you discovered/learned during these last months?” One person said: “I did not know that there was a moral law. When I was young I was told that I had to respect myself. I never knew that my body was sacred because it’s the Temple of the Holy Spirit. Now I’m going to teach that to my children.” Another said: “I thought that adults could do everything they wanted. I did not know that there were responsibilities.” The joy that they experience in their spiritual growth is very evident, as is their decision to continue on the path on which they began to walk last September. Every year, those who come faithfully, tell us how glad they are that they decided to enroll in the adult catechetical program, taking personal responsibility for their actions, their lives, their relationship with God. In other words, they are experiencing the joys of becoming “grown ups.”

The R.C.I.A. participants come because they choose to listen to God’s voice calling them home, make no mistake about that. As the year progresses, we make it very plain that following God’s narrow road is not easy; it requires commitment, endurance and sacrifices. In other words, deciding to become an adult Christian means accepting growing pains. When the effort seems too much and we feel like throwing in the towel, we should tell ourselves what our parents told us so long ago: “it’s only growing pains” and realize that we are closer to our goal.

On the other hand, we can choose not to accept our vocation as adult Christians and continue down the road of spiritual immaturity. Unfortunately, while this seems the easier road, that this is the more painful of the two. Avoiding spiritual growing pains is more costly, more agonizing and self-destructive in the long run, because we choose to act against our very nature, against the purpose for which God has made us, which is: to know Him, serve Him and to adore Him. Only real adults can do that.

Why did Jesus show so much mercy? Because he loved. He loves every sinner and gave His life for them, for all of us. He took no pleasure in condemning; His goal was the repentance, the conversion of the sinner, not his death. And because He showed mercy to the sinner, but spoke out clearly against sin, He angered both the religious and the political authorities, who conspired together to kill Him.

Fast-forward 2000 years. A small percentage of our priests have sinned grievously against the young. A very small percentage. Nevertheless, no matter how small the number, what they did was wrong. The guilt of the bishops who moved them to a different assignment, after sending them to rehabilitation, counseling or whatever, may or may not be grave. That depends on the professional advice that they received from the professionals they trusted (psychologists, counselors, psychiatrists). All this should make us sad. It should compel us to pray for everyone involved: the victims, the perpetrators and their bishops. It should make us eager for the repentance and conversion of those who sinned, just as we would wish that those around us would pray for us in our sinfulness, and wish for our conversion and repentance.

Doesn’t the “feeding frenzy” that is going on today among the media and their allies remind us of the crowd who pushed the adulterous woman toward Jesus, feeling superior, stones in their hands, ready to kill? Now they are even going after our beloved Holy Father, in an attempt to “kill” his reputation, poison our minds against him and even put him to trial. It seems that they take pleasure in trying to destroy him, just as those long-ago leaders took pleasure in trying to destroy our Lord. And again, if Jesus were standing in front of this crowd of hypocrites He would tell them: “Let the one without sin cast the first stone.” And just like 2000 years ago, every one of them would leave with downcast eyes and a red face, because their sins could not withstand the light of the Son.

Do you remember when our beloved Holy Father was first elected? The world media bared its collective poisoned fangs at this gentle, intelligent, old man and called him “God’s Rottweiler” because he dared say that what they did was sinful. He actually dared to say that voting for someone who promoted abortion was sinful. He actually continues to say that marriage is a divine institution between one man and one woman. How dare he? Then the frenzy died down, as another victim appeared at their horizon…only to come back after they dug up as much dirt as possible against him and our Church. Again, with stones in their hands, hatred dripping from their pens, they self-righteously are claiming the right to condemn this same gentle, loving old man who dares stand up to them, not with malice, not with bitter words, but with kindness, with logic, with compassion and (horror!) with the Truth.

Now, I am not trying to shield anyone who committed a crime. But justice should always be evenhanded, not tainted by revenge, and always aiming at redemption, not destruction. When Italy was a thoroughly Catholic country, its leaders wisely realized that unless justice be tempered by mercy, it’s not justice, and they called the Italian justice department Ministero di Grazia e Giustizia (the Department of Mercy and Justice). Notice that Mercy is first.

Two thousand years have gone by since our Lord walked among us and tried to tell the powerful that they could not bully their enemies. Two thousand years ago, the powerful wanted none of His messages, His words, His truth.

Two thousand years ago, Jesus also warned us that His followers would be mocked, persecuted, hated, even killed. This Lent, our beloved Holy Father, one more time, personally experienced the truth of these words. And he has taken the abuse silently, without condemning, without blaming others. The media can throw stones; the Pope cannot respond in kind. He cannot even speak in his defense, because it would mean revealing confidential information, maybe harming others’ reputation, and he would never do that. Let’s pray for our Holy Father. This frail old man is bearing the heaviest cross on this earth, let us all support him with our love and our prayers.

Have you noticed how our lives seem to have become flat? I mean, we do the same things every day; we eat the same foods year-round; days and events seem to rush at us so fast that we have no time to savor the preparation. We seem to have no time to “anticipate” great events. Think about it: do you remember when we used to eat certain foods only during a particular season? For example, when I was a child (I know, when Noah was on the ark), grapes were only available in the fall. We looked forward to them and appreciated their goodness because we had not eaten them for a full ten months. The same for oranges, strawberries, etc. You know what I mean. Today, we can buy grapes, oranges, etc. any time and we have lost the feeling of “special.” What’s so special about something we can have every day? We could say the same with movies: we used to have to go to the theater, and never more often than once a week. A movie was a special treat. Now … where am I going with this? I’m going back to savor some of the special times, the slow anticipation and preparation for a feast: Easter.

Centuries ago, when times were rough and there were no movies, no TVs, etc. evenings, especially in the winter, were a time to pray, to reflect, to prepare and folks did this. They thought of ways to make things special, and so the Lenten season was meaningful, more “present” and brought to life many traditions that are still cherished in many small towns all over Italy. One of them, which involved children, was the preparation of the Sepulchers. Right after Ash Wednesday, we would take some containers (old food cans), fill them with soil and plenty of seeds: mostly wheat, but also lentils or barley, and we put them in a very dark spot, the darker, the better. We gave them water, but no light. It seemed strange to us that these poor seeds, kept in the dark, no heat, would come to life at all, but they did. They started to poke up their little heads fairly soon, and by the time Holy Thursday arrived, if we hadn’t forgotten to water them, and if hadn’t peeked too often, they’d form a white, that’s right white, soft carpet. What did we do with them? We’d take them to church, where they were used to prepare the Sepulcher where a Crucifix would be laid on Good Friday for all to go and venerate.

How did this tradition start? I’m not sure, but we all know that the grain of wheat that is buried, dies and sprouts again, to bring forth many more grains of wheat represents the death, burial and resurrection of our Lord: that’s clear. In the old days, there were also many more small farmers than there are these days. It was a tradition that, after Good Friday, the farming families went back to pick up their sprouts and plant them in their fields, confident that, after being so close to the Lord, they would bless all their crops. Many centuries later, for us kids the white sprouts were a miracle. We couldn’t get over the color and the fact that the seeds sprouted and grew at all, in that dark and cold cupboard

The food stores also told us we were in Lent. Piles of smelly-old salted cod appeared everywhere. Mother used to buy some, soak it in water, squeeze it out, and cook it with tomato sauce and… raisins. Ugh! Only she and dad ate it. We could not get over the smell.

Then there are miraculous events that take place in different towns or villages during Lent. One such is The Sacred Thorn of Andria, in Puglia. Tradition has it that this wicked-looking, four-inch long thorn, which is kept in a reliquary in the Cathedral, was a gift of one of the old French kings. The first phenomenon concerning this relic was recorded in 1633, but it is supposed that it happened before then. The thorn is grey in color, with four purple spots clearly visible on two sides, plus a number of smaller spots. When, and only when, Good Friday coincides with the Feast of the Annunciation, that is, March 25 (this happens every 11 years), the spots bleed. The Bishop of Andria and many others, were present the last time this happened, on March 25, 2005, Good Friday, when it “bled” for 14 hours. However, it had not done so since March 25, 1932. The next time that Good Friday will fall on March 25 is 2016. Will the Sacred Thorn bleed again? We don’t know. Is it one of the Thorns that crowned the head of our Lord? We don’t know, but it sure acts like it! There are “Sacred Thorns” venerated as relics of our Lord in many towns and villages in Italy. Tradition has it that they were brought back from the Holy Land at the times of the Crusades. With other relics of Jesus’ Passion, such as the Shroud, the Sudarium and the Nails, the Sacred Thorns make Lent visible and real.

And if St. Philip were around today he’d pull his hair out. Not only does the vice of gossip flourish today, but it has graduated into slander. What is the difference between the two?

Gossip = “Mischievous or idle talk, usually about the affairs [a/k/a business] of others” (Webster dictionary). It seems that today we can’t escape gossip unless we go around with our ears plugged and our eyes covered. Not easy. Take the magazine rack at the exit of the supermarket, for example: the latest, often unfounded rumors about celebrities scream at us. Just pulling up the main page of the internet search engines, Yahoo, MSN, AOL, is like entering a minefield of silly, useless gossip. Turn on the radio, and we hear about the latest “scandals,” which seem more and more vicious as time goes by. And how about “tell all” books about former bosses, friends or lovers? It’s hard to find significant facts in all the noise.

Then there’s the rest of us. Often, to be thought well-informed, we spread rumors about friends and acquaintances. What’s wrong with gossip? Is it harming anyone? Most likely. Not too many folks go around speaking well of others. It’s a lot more fun, and juicier, if we reveal some less-than-edifying tidbits of information about someone we know. What we are doing may not be a mortal sin (although as we’ll see later, it tends to deteriorate into one), but it is not charitable nor it is just. Everyone has a right to a good reputation! As the Catechism of the Catholic Church (CCC) tells us in paragraph 2477, “Respect for the reputation of persons forbids every attitude and word likely to cause them unjust injury.”

Slander (or Calumny) = the same paragraph tells us that it is a “remark contrary to the truth [that] harms the reputation of others and gives occasion to false judgment concerning them.”

In other words, when we falsely accuse someone of doing something bad. This goes directly against the 8th Commandment Thou shall not lie. In fact, paragraph 2484, the CCC tells us that this may deteriorate into mortal sin: “The gravity of the lie is measured against the nature of the truth it deforms, the circumstances, the intention of the one who lies, and the harm suffered by others.” I don’t know about you, but I’ve stopped reading newspapers or watching TV because I can’t stand the willful damage inflicted on others by the slanderous reporting that seems to be all the rage today; it almost looks like a pack of rabid dogs looking for the next person to bite. I read my news on the Internet and I’m very, very careful to go to websites that I found to be factual. Do I always succeed? No, but I sure give it my best shot. Back to the Catechism.

Rash Judgment = “He becomes guilty of rash judgment who, even tacitly, assumes as true, without sufficient foundation, the moral fault of a neighbor. Paragraph 2478 continues: “To avoid rash judgment, everyone should be careful to interpret insofar as possible his neighbor’s thoughts, words, and deeds in a favorable way… Every good Christian ought to be more ready to give a favorable interpretation to another’s statement than to condemn it. But if he cannot do so, let him ask how the other understands it, and if the latter understands it badly, let the former correct him with love.”

How do we avoid getting caught in the web of gossip, slander and rash judgment that is all around us? For one, we can stop reading material that’s based on Gossip: People Magazine anyone? National Enquirer? Here’s a revealing question to ask ourselves: “Have I read more about Tiger Woods, [or any other personality of choice] lately than I have about Jesus?” If the answer is “yes,” we better head for the nearest Catholic bookstore and stock up on anti-gossip literature! And then, every time we’re tempted to talk about (or listen about, or judge) others, let’s ask St. Philip Neri to give us a hand!

The sameness: the Holy Spirit continues to call, thanks be to God, and there’s no point in trying to guess who will come forward to learn more about the Catholic Faith. The two most unusual were women, well, at least one of them was; the other was a seven-year old girl who announced to her parents that she wanted to know more about the Catholic Church. Thank God, the parents were open, and brought her to the R.C.I.C. classes (for children from 7 to 16). But… the parents did not want to leave her alone, so they took turns staying with her. You guessed it, the one who was not Catholic joined the R.C.I.A. the following year, and the entire family began seriously practicing their Faith (“and a child shall lead them”).

The other most unusual catechumen was a 90-year old woman who had never been baptized. She faithfully attended all the sessions and washed away 90-years worth of sin, including all the consequences, on one glorious Easter Vigil.

The changes that I noticed as the years go by is the increasing difficulty of commitment. Many folks sign up in the beginning, but then attendance begins to drop off, mostly among the young. True, the young tend to be involved in more activities, such as sports, evening working hours and at times school requirements that unfortunately take priority over R.C.I.A. Sadly, they end up opting not to receive the Sacraments, at least for the time being. We all pray that they will decide to come back in good time.

However, every year there is a core of converts who are determined to stick it to the end, no matter how tired they are after a day’s work or study, and who make attendance to R.C.I.A. a priority. These are the folks whom you will see at the Easter Vigil, eager to receive the Sacraments that God gave us to help us on our way to Heaven. And what a journey they’ve had! As they discover the beauty of our Faith, they realize that the Church is truly the beautiful Bride of Christ. As they learn what She proclaims, and why, they become aware that what they hear or read about Her from the media is mostly lies, or at best misunderstandings. The Church is never hateful, bigoted, mean-spirited. She always has a reason to say what She does, and it is always said with love and kindness. She holds the Truth up to us, and then it’s up to us to accept Him or to reject Him.

Then, on a Saturday morning in Lent, we have the “big event,” a/k/a, the R.C.I.A. mini-retreat. What do we do? Simply, Fr. Hilton speaks to us about Confession, the history of this Sacrament, the requirements, and answers all the questions that are burning in the participants’ mind. Those of us who are cradle Catholics, and who made our First Confession when we were children, cannot fathom the nervousness of adults who, for the first time in their lives, prepare to bare their conscience.

Then comes the moment that everyone is waiting for, and dreading at the same time. Father goes to a separate room, ready to meet privately with all those who wish to do so, whether to go to Confession or simply to ask questions that could not be asked in public. One by one, they step forward, while the rest remain behind. Those who do decide to take “the big step” come back to the common room in a cloud of joy and… relief. Joy that they heard the words “your sins are forgiven, go in peace,” and relief that the hurdle that they had dreaded was over, and much easier than they had anticipated. And no, in case you ask, those who have not been baptized do NOT go to Confession. They’ll be eligible only after Baptism… should they sin).

Every year, several Catholics also attend R.C.I.A., both to learn more about their Faith and to encourage the candidates. Often, these Catholics are asked to be sponsors: this is both an honor and a commitment. Until death does them part, they are required to pray for their godchildren, be of good example to them and of encouragement to persevere in the Faith.

The most encouraging part about being involved with R.C.I.A. is seeing the “graduates” come back to Mass year after year. I watch out for them, and rejoice every time that I see them. I remember all of them, and pray for them. In fact, I sit up front for Mass, partly because I’m short and I don’t want to miss anything. But also because, after I give thanks after Communion, I look to those who go up after me. I pray for every one of them, asking the Lord to keep them safe, to help them in their needs, and I especially give thanks to Him every time that one of “my pups” (as I call them) steps up to receive Him.

Dear R.C.I.A. graduates of years past, I remember everyone of you, and love you dearly.

But, although Catholic Media is everywhere, it’s not as loud or intrusive as the rest of the stuff that’s out there. We have to be selective, because there is a lot of misinformation about the Catholic Church. For instance, I was once looking for saints on the Internet, and I ran across dozens of sites that were misleading at best, and blasphemous at worst. Now I have a few organizations that I trust, and stick to them.

Vatican
This is the most reliable Catholic website, of course. It’s the site of the Pope and all the documents we find there under the tabs “The Holy Father” and “The Roman Curia” are official documents that can be relied on.

Zenit
If you want Catholic news from around the world, this website is quite good, and it can be read in seven languages. It also alerts us of documents coming out of the Vatican, papal trips, upcoming beatifications and canonizations, and how Catholics are faring the world over. It’s a truly Catholic site in that it gives us universal news, and reminds us that the US Church is but a tiny fraction of the whole.

Catholic News
Another newsy website, focusing primarily on the US and events that touch us as Catholics. Most of the news are told briefly and if you want to make the most of your time, Catholicnews is the site for you.

Archdiocese of Denver
Yes, the Archdiocese of Denver has its own website. There, we can find all the parishes in Northern Colorado, find out where is Father So-and-So whom you once knew, and be up to date on diocesan events.

Ignatius Press
This is the website of the best Catholic publisher in the U.S. Its products are of good quality (their paperbacks are sewn, so they don’t dissolve at the third reading) and affordable. They are also of high content quality: they publish books written by our Holy Father, by prominent and faithful theologians (yes, Virginia, there are also unfaithful theologians). They also publish good children books, CDs, DVDs, movies and more. It’s hard to go wrong buying Ignatius’ stuff.

TAN Books
Another good Catholic publisher. TAN specializes in spirituality. They publish books such as the classic biography of St. John Vianney written by the Abbe’ Trochu, The Life of St. Margaret Costello, The Blessed Virgin Mary by St. Alphonsus de Liguori, and the books of Joan Carrol Cruz, which so many enjoy because they speak of miracles.

EWTN
This is, of course, the 800 pounds gorilla of Catholic Media, because most of us like to watch TV, and it is the only TV station that’s guaranteed not to scandalize our kids, to tell us the truth and to bring it in our homes in an easy-to-understand manner. After having read two of Mother Angelica’s books, I can’t but admire this feisty nun who took on everyone (and won) to bring His Word to the people. Starting out with absolutely nothing, and convinced that the Lord was calling her to start a TV station, she plowed on despite illness, setbacks and even hostility on the part of those who should have helped her. Like Mother Teresa of Calcutta, she was successful beyond anyone’s imagination, simply because she believed that He who asked her could do what seemed impossible to a small human being.

EWTN Radio
And now we have EWTN radio in Colorado: 1570 am in Northern Colorado and 970 am in the Colorado Springs/Pueblo/Limon area. Generous, talented and hardworking folks worked for years to purchase two small stations and rely on the donations of people like us to keep going. You won’t hear endless commercials on their airwaves. I like to listen to it when I drive (I can’t get it at home). Father John Corapi is on at 2:00 pm and his talks are truly powerful. Programs like Women of Grace, The Doctor is In (With Dr. Ray Guarendi and Dr. Colleen Kelly Mast), and Catholic Answers Live offer us practical advice, solid Catholic doctrine and uplifting events. They even broadcast daily Mass, the Chaplet of the Divine Mercy and the Rosary.

With Lent well on the way, this would be a perfect time to become familiar with at least some of these media.

Then the feminist movement made women feel incomplete, unfulfilled if they were “just wives,” “just mothers.” Every woman worthy of the name was supposed to have “a career.”

TV shows reinforced that message. Remember the commercial: “I can bring home the bacon, fry it up in a pan and never let you forget that I am a woman” commercial? How about those sit-com characters of successful, witty, popular “career women,” who could do it all and have it all? A fun, well-paid job; one thrilling affair after the other; bear a child; raise a sensational young person; party at night, and be happy, fulfilled, exciting, elegant, wise… Wonder Woman, move over!

Now, suddenly, that “piece of paper” that meant nothing thirty-something years ago looks all important to a new constituency: the gay lobby.

Ladies, can we talk? How many of you are “single-mom Wonder Women?” Exciting? Partying at night? Perfect children? (and always looking gorgeous, of course). Give me a break! Being mom and dad at the same time is no fun. Worrying about what your latch-key children are doing when you are at work is stressful. How many fun chores can you count? And let’s not talk about the doubling-up of responsibilities that are the prerogative of the one parent family! The glamorous heroines of the TV sit-coms didn’t go into the practical details, did they?

Don’t you wish we could turn back and return to the old-fashioned family? You know, the one where mom could be at home with the kids. I remember growing up that mom was always home when we were. When we were little, she’d take us to school and come and pick us up on the trolley. On very special occasions we’d walk a few blocks to this fabulous pastry shop where she’d buy us a “maritozzo con panna,” which was a sweet roll, split down the middle and filled with whipped cream.

When we were older and could take the bus, she’s be waiting for us at home, with a hot meal. Then mom would sit with us at the table as we did our homework, helping the slower ones and keeping us on task.

Mother made sure our clothes were neat, appropriate and clean. There were four of us, with a total age difference of only 5 and 1/2 years; still she managed to get us all at our Catholic school on time, sparkling in our white “coverall” uniforms. I remember that once, the Mother Superior brushed aside the excuses of a regularly-tardy mother of two with the words: “Signora Vigano’ (my mother) has four, and she’s never late!”

Often dad would work too late to have dinner with all of us, so she waited for him, and they sat at the dinner table, talking after we were all asleep. I remember one time, when she had prepared a big, frosted cake with lots of our favorite maraschino cherries on top for someone’s birthday. There was plenty left that evening for dad, and again for dinner the next day. Except… when the cake appeared on the table, all the cherries were gone! We kids let out a howl of disappointment. Our indignant mother asked which one of us had perpetrated the crime… while dad’s eyes were crinkling, then tearing; soon he could not contain his laughter any longer. When he could finally speak, he asked mom: “You were sitting right in front of me last night, when we were talking, and I was putting one cherry after the other in my mouth. Didn’t you notice?” We didn’t think it was that funny!

No, I would not trade our family life for anything. Our parents were raised in a Catholic family, and followed the example of their own parents. Thanks to that vision, our existence was peaceful, orderly, quiet; you may even say “boring” by today’s standards. Thanks to my mother’s gift of self, we had a happy home. I know that she would not have traded places with the most glamorous, successful, popular career woman on the planet. She was the darling of our father’s heart and the happiness of her children.

As I read articles written by “successful” women who claim marriage is an archaic institution, with no place in our modern world, my heart goes out to all our children and the children that they will bear. It is up to us, and especially to the younger women among us, to reclaim the privileged place that God intended for us since the beginning of the world. If we do, we will be, once again, the heart of the family, the teacher of our children, and the treasure of society. Holy Mary, Mother of God, You who raised God’s Son, help us to imitate You.