
Does the Catholic Church have a right to follow its convictions about sexual morality in its own institutions without being penalized by government? In its June decision declaring “gay” and “transgender” to be protected categories under federal law barring sex-based discrimination, the Supreme Court left that question unanswered.

It’s another morning in forever-COVID-19 world, and I am trying to call the family from all corners of the house and yard to morning prayer. We’ve all been up for a few hours, and the washing machine upstairs just entered spin cycle, adding a pleasant, audible sense of momentum to the morning. The moment is right.

Fifteen years after Richard Louv’s bestseller “The Last Child in the Woods” was published, it is more relevant than ever. I’m fascinated by his insights on the “nature-deficit disorder” ailing kids.

We are weary. We are discouraged. We are looking for the light at the end of the tunnel, almost certain that, in the context of 2020, when we see it, it will be an oncoming train. Hope wanes. And when hope wanes, faith falters and love struggles against indifference. Did I mention yet that we are on the brink of election season? We’re in a world of hurt, and we need to shore ourselves up for the storm set to crash upon an already battered, badly eroded beach.

The world seems a little different of late. Fear, anxiety and anger are growing in the hearts of men, women and children. Fear of losing a job, not being able to provide for the family, paying the bills and ultimately fear of death. Before COVID-19, how often did one contemplate the thought of dying?

Have you ever tried to walk on water? It’s slightly more difficult than our imagination lets on. Of course, there’s the obvious problem of not sinking. But let’s suppose you had that covered, by pontoon shoes or the grace of God. You’d still have to work out the problems of balance and standing up straight. The water, after all, is not a level surface: It comes in waves and is likely to be a bit squishy under your feet. At any moment your level ground may become a hill, a slope, a peak, and then rolls past, leaving you on the other side.

In this last month of summer, I pray that, sustained by God’s grace, you will be renewed through prayer, rest and time with family. Yet, we cannot deny that loneliness, anxiety, uncertainty and even despair have arisen out of the coronavirus pandemic, and anger over acts of racial violence. The unique challenges that each of us faces are stark reminders that we are “pilgrims in a strange land, tracing in trial and in oppression the paths that (our Savior) trod” (Vatican II, “Lumen Gentium,” 7). During this difficult time, we look forward with renewed hope to the upcoming solemnity of our loving Mother.

Pay attention to Jesus’ eyes in this Sunday’s Gospel. What does he see? Where does he look?

Disappointed pro-lifers were predictably angry at Chief Justice John Roberts for providing the fifth vote in the five-member Supreme Court majority that last month struck down a Louisiana law requiring doctors who do abortions to meet one mildly restrictive prescription. It was no surprise that the court’s four liberals — Justices Ruth Bader Ginsburg, Stephen Breyer (who wrote the opinion), Sonia Sotomayor and Elena Kagan — voted as they did, but Roberts, a conservative, came as a shock.



An important encounter
Few of Jesus’ interactions with people in the Gospels are more jarring than the one presented us this week. We are used to Christ as the understanding, merciful one who supports and encourages the poor. So when he initially refuses the request of this woman in trouble, even as she cries out “Lord, help me,” we can easily be troubled.