Be Proud That You're a Catholic

I received the following email yesterday and for obvious reasons it made my blood boil.

Interesting – no matter one’s religion..... (a point of view)

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 you 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."

That's right, be proud that you're a Catholic. My response to the email follows.

Seriously? This whole notion of the Catholic church as a poor little old victim makes me sick. They want to blame the media for the molestation of little boys by Catholic priests? Pedophilia is not a disease. It’s a perversion. These are perverted adult men preying on children who look up to them as role models. No one has blamed “the disease of pedophilia on the Catholic church.” People have rightly blamed the figureheads of the Catholic church for covering up and blocking the investigations into these matters for decades. This pattern of cover ups continues to this day with recent links all the way up to and including the Pope.

1.7% of Catholic priests have been found guilty of pedophilia. Such a tiny, inconsequential number. Let’s rephrase that number. Nearly 1 in every 50 Catholic priests has been found GUILTY of pedophilia. That doesn’t count the number of priests who were never brought to trial or turned in. And this claim that the church has been “hurt by a small number of wayward priests that have probably been totally weeded out by now” is just laughable.

Why looky here, this is in TODAY’S paper:

http://www.nytimes.com/2011/03/09/us/09priests.html?_r=2&nl=todaysheadlines&emc=tha23

End of rant.

True Story

There once was a man who was married to a woman for many years. They shared many, many memories and built up a rich history together. Then one day she left him. The man was heartbroken. Worse yet, she left him for another member of his family.

It turned out that the man was well connected and other important members of the community vowed to find him a new wife, exactly like his old wife. It took a few years but low and behold, one day the community succeeded in finding him a new wife. He was overjoyed.

But then the man began to behave rather strangely. First, he insisted that everyone call his new wife by his old wife's name. Next, he dressed his new wife in his old wife's clothes. Then, he started to pretend that all of the things that he had done over the years with his first wife were actually done with his new wife. This included claiming that the children that were raised with his first wife were now actually raised by his new wife, almost as if there had never been a first wife and this new wife had been his wife all along.

As for his friends and the community that he lived in, they went right along with the ruse, as did his family. Even his first wife, who as previously mentioned, had left him for another member of his family, pretended that the children that they had raised together actually belonged to the man's new wife. She did this even when the families got together twice each year. Once at her new home and once in her old home.

After a decade or so of this behavior, everyone seemed to forget that the man had ever been married to another, and people no longer noticed anything unusual at all about the situation.

The man's name was Cleveland and his wife was affectionately referred to as the Browns.

Marshall Half Marathon

This race report should actually begin last February. I had just run the Last Chance for Boston Half Marathon as a tune up race for the Pittsburgh Marathon. The morning after the race my foot hurt so bad that I could barely walk. I was diagnosed with plantar fasciitis and told that it was something that I could run through until it gets better. In reality, the injury pretty much grounded me for a full three months and when the pain was finally gone, so was almost all of my fitness and endurance.

In June, I was able to start rebuilding my base slowly but surely. It was very frustrating but it was better than not being able to run. By the end of July, I started thinking about running the Columbus Marathon in October. I knew that it was a tough goal with very little room for training errors. My fallback plan would be to run the 1/2 in Columbus and then run the full marathon in Las Vegas in December. Then my wife informed me that she had to go out of town on business the morning of the Columbus race. With that information, I realized that I wouldn't be able to run Columbus. I was actually relieved. Now I could focus solely on Vegas.

I continued training but soon realized that there was just no way I could go to Vegas without having raced since February. I needed a tune up race to get a feel for my fitness and speed so I would be able to set realistic goals for the Vegas race. I started searching for a nearby half marathon and Huntington, WV was the closest I could find. It was the only choice I had.

Usually, when I run a half marathon as a training run, I tell myself that it is only a training run and then when I get out there my competitiveness takes over and I start racing the darn thing. I knew that this time, with Vegas only four weeks away, I really needed to run a disciplined race, one where I could gauge my fitness without wearing down my body so much that I would need to take time off from training to recover.

I decided the plan would be to run the race at 7:40 pace and maybe, if I was feeling really good, I could pick it up a bit but no faster than 7:30 pace. For once, I was able to stick to the plan.

THE RACE:

The weather was in the mid-20s at the start. I love running in this weather but it's a bit cold for most people. I ran a warm up mile and determined that a short sleeve shirt under a long sleeve shirt with shorts, a hat, and throw away gloves was just right for racing in.

We lined up at the start but it took forever for the race to start. The race director was talking but the PA system wasn't powerful enough for us to hear him over all of the runners chatting. I noticed a guy dressed in a Batman costume and vowed to not let Batman beat me. Finally, the starting gun sounded and we were off. I quickly settled into my 7:40 pace and then my friend Lisa ran by, telling me that she got stuck behind some people. Then just like that, she was gone.

The first few miles went by quickly and I resisted the temptation to chase faster runners. My first five splits were: 7:41, 7:30, 7:40, 7:42, 7:34. I really had to resist picking up the pace but after the first five miles I decided to pick it up just a little, still staying within the 7:30-7:40 range and told myself that if I still felt good at mile 10 then I could push the pace to the finish. Splits six through ten: 7:36, 7:41, 7:36, 7:32, 7:33. I noticed in miles 6-10 that I was slowly but surely picking off five or six runners per mile.

At mile 10, I saw Batman. He was about 50 yards ahead of me but he was definitely coming back to me. I picked up the pace and went after him. I closed on him and passed him in no time. Thank god a guy dressed in a costume wasn't going to beat me. After passing Batman, I picked off a few more runners and realized that I was still feeling really fresh. This was exactly what I wanted. Mile 11 split was 7:18.

I turned a corner after mile 11 and there was a long straight away. I could see
two people about 50 yards ahead of me and then 5 more runners probably 100 yards ahead. I vowed to catch all of them. I closed on the nearest two pretty quickly. One guy, who looked like he might be in my age group, tried to hang with me briefly but then he faded. I still had 5 runners to pass and I was running out of time. Mile 12 split: 7:22.

At this point, I thought that it was a straight shot up the road to the stadium and the finish line. I passed two more runners and then suddenly volunteers were directing me across the street and onto the sidewalk. Then I remembered that there was a tribute to the students who died in the 1970 plane crash (the movie: We Are Marshall) and runners had the option of carrying a flower for 200 yards and dropping it at the memorial fountain. I passed a runner, took a flower and turned onto campus in search of this fountain. I felt like I was running forever with this flower and was seriously thinking about just dropping it when I suddenly saw the fountain. I laid down the flower just as I passed a runner. There was still one guy ahead of me but I was closing on him. I finally caught him. He told me good job or something like that and then he stopped and started walking. I think he knew I was coming up on him and fought me as long as he could but once I passed him he was done.

So now I'm flying across campus, I've passed everyone who I had been gunning for and I realize there is absolutely no one in front of me in my sight line and I have no idea where I'm going. This portion of the course winds through campus and I'm trusting my instincts and looking for spray painted arrows on the ground. It's that terrible feeling that I dream about so often. Being in a race and getting lost.

I somehow navigate my way through the campus maze and I finally see a volunteer. She tells me to head across the street, up the sidewalk and into the stadium. I know that the race ends with a 100 yard dash down the center of the football field and they even give you the option of carrying a football. Marshall tradition. So I head down this ramp and onto the field and there are people everywhere and I hear my friend Lisa cheering me on but I have absolutely no idea where I'm supposed to run and no one is telling me. I turn to the right and start running down the sideline, still not sure if this is right but no one is yelling for me to stop or turn around so I just keep going. I run the length of the field and finally get a grasp on the set up. I turn left and a volunteer asks me if I want to carry the ball. I nod yes, she tosses it to me. I catch it and turn onto the field. I'm flying down the field, carrying a football, going 100 yards to the endzone for the first time in, well, ever. I can hear Lisa screaming and I look up at the clock and realize that she is yelling for me to push to finish under 1:39. I cross the line in 1:38:56. Final 1.1 mile at 7:04 pace. (photo of me carrying the football).

We try to do the math to see what my overall pace was and finally just check the Garmin and are excited that I hit my goal time. I ask her how she did and she says she sucked and was terrible and ran 1:34 something. Only after I got home and results were posted do I realize that her sucky, terrible 1:34 was good for first place in her age group by over eleven minutes! I ended up third in my age group which I guess is pretty good for a training run. If I had raced it, I might have finished second but definitely not first.

So what does all this mean? It was a good confidence builder for sure. It was nice to feel strong enough to pass so many runners toward the end. If I'm being honest with myself, I think it sets me up for a 7:50 pace "A" goal for Vegas and I'm feeling pretty good about my chances of re-qualifying for Boston. But I definitely needed this race so I could remember what racing felt like and it was a great opportunity to practice the mental discipline that a BQ effort will require. I still don't feel like I'm 100% back to where I was before my injury but I know that I'm getting close and that is good enough for now.

The Fine Print

The plane ride was long. Food was scarce. By the time my flight landed in Las Vegas I was ready for a meal. But first things first. I was in town to run the Las Vegas Marathon. My parents picked me up at the airport and I asked them to take me to the Race Expo so that I could pick up my race packet and be done with it. I hinted a few times that a bite to eat would be nice but the plan called for ordering pizza, so I was just going to have to wait.

Traffic was terrible and finding the Expo proved to be quite the challenge. Once we finally arrived, I quickly picked up my packet, scanned the Expo for anything of interest and then we were on our way back to the car.

Sitting in the back seat, trying to divert my attention from my dad's driving, I rifled through my race goodie bag. The bag contained the standard assortment of race pamphlets and advertisements. But wait, what's this? Jackpot! A small bag of peanut butter cookies. I had never heard of the brand and barely looked at the logo of a smiling dog as I quickly tore open the bag and shoved two cookies in my mouth. I asked my parents if they would like a cookie and handed one to my dad and then had another cookie for myself.

At this point, the hunger instinct has begun to subside and I start to notice the flavor. They don't really taste like peanut butter. I comment that these cookies aren't very good and my dad quickly adds, they taste like shit!

I look down at the package and for the first time notice the words "dog biscuits". I start laughing and tell my dad what we are eating. He doesn't want to believe me. Let me see the bag, he says. I lean forward and show him the bag. SON OF A BITCH! he exclaims as we all start laughing hysterically.

When we arrive at the house, the first thing I do is offer my brother a cookie.

Our Beliefs Are Fox Talking Points Deep

The wisdom and intellect of Sarah Palin supporters.

"Christians"

I like your Christ, I do not like your Christians. Your Christians are so unlike your Christ.
-Mohandas Gandhi

Click for a must read and watch Exhibit A. Unless of course, you are OK with "Christians" calling for the death of our President.

Stewart As Beck

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Brilliant!