To many Christians, recent legal restrictions such as the HHS mandate seem like a “soft persecution.” It is tempting for us to portray such restrictions using the language and imagery of martyrdom. But is it accurate at all? One scholar, writing recently, thinks that contemporary Christians have the whole thing wrong—the history of martyrdom and its application today. Don’t we risk making a ridiculous comparison?

During the home stretch of our St. Dominic’s pilgrimage last year, as we left St. Matthew’s Cathedral in DC, a heavy rainstorm began. Our group numbered about twenty friars. After a few moments of hiding ineffectually under a tree and with no sign of the rain letting up, we realized that the only way home was walking for an hour in the rain.

When Pope Benedict XVI recently established a Twitter page, I was very excited. Ironically, the length of Twitter posts is well-calibrated for Christianity, whose founders were known for punchy kerygmatic statements like “Jesus is Lord.” We should use technology to sanctify the world. Sadly, the world does not reciprocate its appreciation. If you take a moment to observe the responses which the Pope’s tweets received, you’ll see the filthy underside of the internet: foul language, abuse, libel. Underneath the responses to the Pope lies incredible hate. His recent announcement of resignation has only provoked more hatred. What is it about this mild-mannered and diminutive academic that provokes so much hate?

Driving down I-71 in Ohio you will see an enormous sign emblazoned with gigantic, flaming red letters that reads “HELL IS REAL.” For some people, this is a favorite way to preach the Gospel.

Atheist apologist Richard Dawkins has been known to liken religion to a form of child abuse. He saves his sharpest criticism for those who preach fire and brimstone to little kids, claiming that it causes lasting harm to their mental health. The I-71 billboard provides some cultural context for his critique.

Evangelizing is a central part of being a Christian. As surprising as this may sound to many Catholics, the recent Synod on the New Evangelization emphasized that “every one of the Church’s actions has an essential evangelizing character and must never be separated from the duty to help others encounter Christ in faith” (n. 34). We would do well to take today’s saint—Andrew the apostle—as our model as we consider our duty to evangelize.

I remember when my sister became a detective. We were probably about seven and eight years old. Christmas was rolling around again, and she was suspicious. It started with simple questions. Mom, why does Santa have the same handwriting you do? And next, why does Santa use the same wrapping paper you and Dad use? You really have to admire her logic. Something didn’t quite add up.

When Pope Benedict commemorated the anniversary of 9/11 last year, he rejected the most pernicious notion in the ideology of the terrorists: God can be used as a justification for acts of destruction and murder. Just as significantly, he invoked “the infinite mercy of the Almighty God” upon all of the victims.

On December 7, 1965, Pope Paul VI promulgated Dignitatis Humanae, the Second Vatican Council’s declaration on religious freedom. It contains broad affirmations of the fundamental right of religious freedom among men, and as the title suggests, it is the very dignity of man which makes religious freedom necessary.

“I’ll keep you in my thoughts.”

These comforting words are sometimes substituted for the more typical expression of sympathy and consolation: “I’ll keep you in my prayers.” But what does it mean to keep someone in your thoughts? Should we say such a thing?

There has been much attention given to the recently published doctrinal assessment of the Leadership Conference of Women’s Religious (LCWR). The document, produced by the Congregation for the Doctrine of the Faith (CDF), identifies several problems, including dissent from Church teaching (e.g., concerning the reservation of priestly orders to men), the inviting of speakers who ignore or contradict the teaching of the Church, and the justification, by some speakers, of dissent against the Magisterium as a “prophetic office.”