Today I think I’ll talk about some of the excellent Priests I have had the pleasure of knowing throughout my life. They shall be given cool code names of course, so that none will grapple with Pride should they read this (which is unlikely at best), and so that their humble anonymity will remain intact.
I always hear horror stories about Priests from lax Catholics or people who have fallen away from the Church. I was even told once that a major factor in why a girl did note like the Church was that a Priest called her fat once. To be honest, though he was not behaving properly when he made the comment, he was speaking the truth. I found that situation both sad and humorous at the same time, given her strange reason for disliking the entirety of Us over one offense, and the audacity of the Priest’s statement. While I have known a handful of lazy so-so Men of the Cloth, and one or two very poor, even down right awful, men who bear that title, the number of excellent and stalwart men I have met and talked with over my brief span of mortal life has far outweighed any negative impression I might have had.
A short note on many things people do not understand about the Priesthood. For one, every Priest you will ever meet has at least a Master’s Degree worth of education in him, just by nature of how long Seminary lasts and the topics covered therein. This does not include the prior instruction he may have received as a layman at a secular University, nor the Doctorate level studies that many go on to obtain after they are Ordained. There are even branches of the non-Diocesan Priesthood that devote special attention to education, such as the Jesuit Order. Now that I’ve mentioned it, there are two kinds of Priest. Some belong to a religious Order and may or may not wind up attached to a Diocese/Parish as part of their job description, and they may rely not only on their own hierarchy, but that of the Diocesan Priesthood as well. Some are focused on prayer, others on scholastic endeavors, still others on charitable works. There are hundreds of Priestly Orders, all with unique perspectives on the Catholic Faith. Diocesan Priests are the ones you normally think of, and are the most common, for everywhere there is a Catholic Church, there they are. They are the neural network of the Church, linking together Parishes in a Diocese and Diocese to Archdiocese and so on, all the way up to the Holy Father in the Vatican. I have been lucky enough to know both varieties of Priest, and name them friend.
We’ll start first with the Diocesan fellows, the hundred thousands of “grunts” that serve us in every spiritual (and many physical ones as well) aspect of our lives. I will begin with Father Kinship, as he was one of my first contacts with the Priesthood, and is also a blood relative of mine, as his moniker suggests. Father Kinship is a lax, jovial man, quick to laughter and jesting, and his presence at our family table during the customary get-togethers is a boon to everyone in the room. He is rarely anywhere but the heart of a conversation, and each one of us looks forward to the appearance of his white collar, often suspended over a classy solid color sweater-vest, at the door. He is extremely knowledgeable about many subjects pertaining to his Vocation, and dispenses that knowledge with endearing kindness and benevolence. He has been Priest and Pastor at many places, most recently a Parish with an attached school. He runs his ship well and with dignity, making sure the Next Generation is well-schooled in their Faith and in every other subject besides. Yet, Father Kinship shows absolutely no sign that he recognizes how impressive or valuable he is. He is humble throughout, refusing the best seat in the house in favor of others, even when no elderly, afflicted, or ladies are present, in favor of our own comfort, despite the fact that all the work he does would warrant such a position by the standards of most.
Father Luigi is an equally humble man. He is my pastor, though I rarely see him during the school year, as there is Mass with my University’s Newman Club (REPRESENT!!!) at that time. He is normal in temperament, if a bit on the kind and fatherly side, which tends to be the case for most Priests anyway. He dutifully runs his Parish and the attached school, handling delinquents, and even a collection basket thief, with strong but merciful hands. Having received Confession from him once or twice, I can vouch for this unabashedly and with great assurance. A man from a traditional Italian family, his love for his mother is great, and his love for his Parish, also very great. He never ceases to tell us how much he cares for his flock, for to him, we are his enlarged and beautiful family. I cannot recall a Mass where he has not referred to us as “The Miracle on (Street Name Deleted For Privacy)”. And should he sense that he has done something amiss, he immediately and with honest and true gusto, gives us an apology and asks obediently for our forgiveness. Of course, he has never done anything worthy of scorn from what I have seen, but, if he feels he has, may God bless him for his sincere heart.
Father Tough-as-nails was the Pastor before Father Luigi, from when I attended the attached Parochial School as a budding teenage boy. As his nickname might suggest, he was certainly hardcore. While he would speak powerfully against wrongdoing and problems within the community, he gave us a glimpse at a courage and determination sorely lacking in our society. There were some who disliked him for his fire, though he went easy on the brimstone by any definition of the phrase. I never understood this. It takes all sorts of men to make the Church run, and being of a somewhat lively and oft aggressive man myself, I could see where he was coming from. True, there were times when he may have let his anger get the better of him, but, he saw to it that he did better for each slip. He was strict, which was annoying at that age for all of us, but he helped me become a better Catholic and taught me more than any other clergy had, barring Father Kinship, until my High School years. He deeply loved his flock, especially us children. He could be found, during playground hours, roaming around and conversing with us at whim, while making sure nobody pulled any funny stuff, as was our wont. My brother was especially fond of him, having spent far longer under his care than my one year before High School. He often came to Religion Class and taught us about the proper way to read the Old Testament, or the importance of Sacraments, or told us moralistic, yet fun, anecdotes. I have not seen him for some time, and wish that I could find his whereabouts, so that I might thank him for what he did.
As I am running short on time, I will have to make this a two-parter! Expect more soon, for I still have to relate to you the examples of Brother Canadian, The Most Interesting Priest in the World, Father Hippie, Father Aragorn, Father Jester, and Father Humble.
And now for some multi-ton Dinosaurian predators.
Awhile ago I had a bright and sunny afternoon completely free. So I did what any sane person would do. I estimated the movement speeds of four large carnivorous dinosaurs. The nasties in question are as follows:
First, I measured my hip height, which turns out to be pretty much exactly three feet tall. Then I gathered some data on the hip heights of each animal, and calculated a ratio of our respective hip sizes.
Tyrannosaurus Rex: 14.44 ft/ ratio of .2273
Allosaurus: 9.84 ft/ ratio of .3333
Giganotosaurus: 16.4 ft/ ratio of .2
Suchomimus: 12 ft/ ratio of .2732
Then I measured my speed over a measured distance of level ground, and averaged it across several trials, for four different types of movement.
Walking: 2.84 miles per hour
Rapid Walking(For when you’re late to class): 4.49 miles per hour
Jogging: 6.29 miles per hour
Sprinting: 9.13 miles per hour
After which I used the ratios calculated previously to gauge roughly how fast the predators would be at those four types of movement. The basic idea is that stride length for bipeds will be generally comparable, although it is obvious human anatomy and that of a theropod is not exactly parallel by any stretch of the word. Taking that into consideration, I would think that the ratio of hip height would fit about equally with the ratio of stride size, and therefore general speed. I also figured that a fairly bulky person, like myself, as a opposed to an actual sprinter, would better serve as far as general physical ability in comparison. We are talking about some of the largest carnivores to ever walk the earth. Keep in mind, this is not exactly publishable material. There are many, many factors influencing the speed of the animals in this “experiment”, not the least of which involves what would undoubtedly be the superior muscle power in the hind limbs of the beasts.
Walking: 12.49 miles per hour
Rapid Walking: 19.75 miles per hour
Jogging: 27.67 miles per hour
Sprinting: 40.17 miles per hour
Walking: 8.52 miles per hour
Rapid Walking: 13.48 miles per hour
Jogging: 18.87 miles per hour
Sprinting: 27.39 miles per hour
Walking: 14.2 miles per hour
Rapid Walking: 22.45 miles per hour
Jogging: 31.45 miles per hour
Sprinting: 45.65 miles per hour
Walking: 10.40 miles per hour
Rapid Walking: 16.43 miles per hour
Jogging: 23.02 miles per hour
Sprinting: 33.42 miles per hour
Only in relation to Allosaurus are all the different speeds viable, because of the physique of all the other animals. Allosaurus was more gracile than the other creatures, at least relatively, and the most likely to be able to pull off a full sprint without causing itself bodily harm. Its arms were more robust than the others, excepting Suchomimus, and it was only several tons, as compared to the larger weight of the others. One of the serious dangers for a multi-ton biped when running is tripping. The bigger you are, the harder, and more devastating, your fall. This is where the arms and smaller size come in handy. Allosaurus had a far better chance of catching itself, and if it did not, its ribs had a much better chance of not cracking under its own bulk.
Suchomimus is a different case. While a good deal heavier, anywhere from 4-5 tons, it had far longer and more powerful arms, like its relative Baryonyx, which it most likely used to catch fish in conjunction with its crocodile-like jaws. It is theorized that it and its relatives might have been quadrupedal at least part of the time. This semi-bipedal stance, similar to that of Hadrosaurs and Iguanodonts, would have allowed for occasional bursts of speed. It is not conducive, however, to the kind of sprinting tested here. Therefore, I do not think it could have reached the listed top speed in that case.
Tyrannosaurus Rex and Giganotosaurus are both at great risk of grievous injury due to a fall while running. At a heft of 7-8 tons for the Tyrant King, and 8-9 tons for Giganotosaurus, and smaller arms combined with a much larger head than Allosaurus, any trip might result in a completely snapped neck, shattered jaw, or any number of horrors visited upon the ribcage. At that momentum, the risk is just too great. It is also completely reasonable to think that their limbs may not have been able to push them forward that fast. Taking their respective anatomies into account, at the very most, T-Rex could hit a normal run, but not for long, and Giganotosaurus, with its far thicker legs, could probably not pull off more than a rapid walk.
This makes all the carnivores seem slower than they actually are, for each one can amble along faster than I can sprint. Their massive stride length makes them as fast, if not faster, than most modern terrestrial animals. Allosaurus and T-Rex were almost able to reach 30 mph, and are on par with the fastest man ever recorded, with Suchomimus not far behind. Giganotosaurus walked rapidly nearly as fast as Suchomimus could run.
We rose late in the evening for our waking prayers, according to our strict spiritual regimen. Then, a breakfast of coarse dark bread and lukewarm water and following that, general calisthenics to limber up . Our crucifix-shurikens and crosier-naginata had to be sharpened then, in preparation for the coming mission. We were to put down any and all resistance by use of aggravated force and flagellation. The Sister Superior that lead our team into battle inspected our gear before we boarded the stealth plane that was to take us to our drop zone. She shattered Father John’s windpipe with her elbow for having his rosary-garrote tangled. That was a mistake that may have cost him his life in the right situation, and he paid for it with his last breath so that we might learn. When the price of failure is Eternal Damnation, no precaution is too severe, no punishment for transgression too harsh. Finding the rest of us to her liking, we all boarded the plane. I was surprised to notice the Ultra-Secret Brethren of the Bladed Cross standing there, four of them, no less, in full battle dress. Apparently, our mission was going to involve actual open war in the Name of the Holy Mother Church and Pope Hitler XVI.
We spent the trip over in silent prayer, meditating on the Nine-thousand Agonizing Sorrows of the Ever Virgin, mulling over each bloody, painful detail in our hearts and minds until we all saw red. Our mission tonight, we were told, by Sister Superior Agnes of the Bleeding Rent Heart of Jesus, was to put a stop to some little flea who dared think to order the Vatican around in his own pathetic Democracy, by some sort of Healthcare Mandate. How amusing. Someone actually felt that women had rights before they became the Improved Humans ready to serve in a Religious Order. We would put a stop to that.
We were ready for the drop. While reciting the Litany of Litanies, we jumped from the plane several miles up, completely cloaked by a cloud of blessed incense. Everyone but the Sister Superior and the Brethren of the Bladed Cross went into swan dives, streaking down towards the target. The Brethren turned on the jump jets on their Mark MM Crucifixion Mobile Battlesuits, and Sister Superior use her specially modified habit as a parachute. We met some anti-aircraft fire as we went down, but nothing the Brethren could not deal with. They unleashed frankincense shrapnel grenades, covering our descent with the flurry of their explosions. Any flak that got through glanced off of our body armor, by the Grace of God. When it came time for impact, we opened our chutes and veered away from one another, each of us heading to our specific objectives. Some of us would be combing this entire country over the next several months as field agents, blowing up abortion clinics, stealing birth control from the distributors, and sabotaging their production so that none of the new product functioned in the way God never intended. The rest, myself included, would serve as a show of force so that the Will of the Pope should never be again questioned by this “President” fellow.
The Brethren hit the ground first, their landing blowing up and area the size of a city block. Sister ran interference for them, handling any local law enforcement officers before they could react. As if the “law” they tried to enforce had any bearing on those who followed Divine Law…The battlesuits opened up with a salvo from their shoulder-mounted rail-guns, destroying some sort of stupid white tower nearby. Then, they extended their four-bladed cross swords and charged the enemy, Heaven-bent on unleashing as much destruction as possible…..
So, if you haven’t stopped reading yet, I hope you recognize that this is one giant joke. I would never condone anything like this, nor does it exist.
I wrote this silliness in response to all the people who have decided to defend the HHS Mandate that forces the Church to pay for what it deems a grievous Evil by claiming that we are trying to enforce a Theocracy or control women. I will not go into the various reasons why the Mandate, even with that false compromise “Dear Leader” President Barack Obama placed in their to insult our intelligence, is a violation of every American’s Constitutional Rights. The problem there should be obvious. What I will do is tell you that what our opponents claim is utterly ridiculous.
There is no secret abortion-doctor assassination squad that also sabotages birth control pill factories. We have no power-armored monks to storm the capitol and force the Will of the Church upon America. We have no real power to stop women from using as many contraceptives and having as many abortions as they desire. All we can do is preach against it, and not allow them to be paid for with our money. That is why we fight this Mandate. We are being forced to pay for that which we find Evil. Our Consciences are being violated by Government Force. That is all. No more, and no less.
And yet our detractors pretend that the above drivel is exactly what we wish to occur. Of all the ignorant ways to defend tyranny, this has to be one of the most base and intellectually lacking. Now if you’ll excuse me, I have a Lenten fast to stock up for. It is Fat Tuesday, after all.
I wonder why so many have such a fascination with guns. Well, wonder is not such an accurate word in this case, because I have an inkling of their desires myself. I think it has something to do with the power of the weapon, the loud bang, or in the case of silencers, the little dart-like “pitew!” of the bullet leaving the barrel, the force of the recoil against your hand and arm. Or, if you happen to be poorly trained, the butt of the firearm cracking painfully against your cheek. There is something that satisfies man’s lust for power in the ability to level a heavy-caliber automatic weapon against a brick wall and see it turn into a pile of dust, to say nothing of what such a weapon does to flesh. This becomes even more apparent in science fiction, when we have weapons like phasers which can atomize a person, reducing their body to molecular dust, or the energy cannon on the Death Star, which can annihilate entire planets and star cruisers with a single shot.In the novels, of that same Lucas-verse, there is a ship titled “the Sun Crusher” which launches reactive torpedoes into the core of the star in a solar system, thereby destroying the whole area, snuffing out countless billions of lives at the touch of a button.
While I do see the appeal of various high-powered weapons in writing, for my own personal use I prefer at most a shotgun or a pair of semi-automatic pistols. Even more preferably, I would take one pistol/sawed off shotgun, and a blade of some kind. And taking things yet another step further, I would keep the blade and trade the guns out for a solid english longbow. Granted, on the battlefield, compared to what is available currently, these are not the best of choices, even though, to quote Robert Heinlein’s Starship Troopers, “There are no dangerous weapons; there are only dangerous men.”, yet I still have my reasons why I favor blades and bows over bullets and bombs. Especially powerful, long range weapons like inter-continental ballistic missiles and battleship railguns. To say nothing of the nuclear arsenal currently in place worldwide.
When one uses a gun, especially something like a sniper rifle, there is a sort of disconnect not present with a bow or a blade. Men are tactile creatures, part of what makes something real to us is the touch of it to our hands. This is plain to see when you talk to any race car driver or fighter pilot. They often speak of the “feel” of how the machine handles in response to their commands. There is a mental link between object and what results from using said object. When you see a target a hundred yards out, and you aim through your scope at his head, all it takes is a quick tug on the trigger and his head is now missing. The entire affair is impersonal and though you know you have killed a man, you have not truly felt yourself kill anything. You watched a man fall down a hundred yards away after you twitched your index finger. The separation between action and result is far greater when you press a button from miles above in the air and unleash a salvo of missiles that level a city block to rubble, and greater still when you press a button and a city itself is vaporized by a multi-megaton explosion a short while later.
Making killing easy, after a certain point, becomes dangerous to the morality of man, for it mentally disconnects the violence of the act from the perpetrator. There have been many times that Popes have spoken out against new and more efficient weapons in the past, and I suspect that they will continue to do so in the future, for exactly the same reason. When war becomes as easy as flipping a switch, it is harder and harder to avoid atrocity and needless bloodshed.
This is why my favorite modern weapons to use are pistols and shotguns, because while the killing is still a matter of aiming and twitching my finger, I would have to watch the man die, close enough for it to have a strong impact on my mind without any meditation on the fact that I just took a human life. I would see the blood, watch the wound appear, and the scream, if there was one, would be very audible at that range.
This is even more true with blades and bows. It takes little physical effort, in the end, to level a pistol at someone and pull the trigger, even though the emotional effort might be intense. With a shotgun, my aim need not be nearly as precise. I can knock a grown man to the ground minus large hunks of his chest with one pump and a squeeze. And be ready for the next one to come around the corner into my line of fire. With a bow, you have no such luxury, nor do you have it with a blade. When letting fly with an arrow, you have to draw the bow back, find your target, and take aim. Once you let go, you have to reach back and grab another arrow, then repeat. Now, for a trained combat archer, they could do this very well and with great speed, moreso than one might think. An average rate of fire would be roughly about one arrow every ten seconds. This is still far slower than any modern gun and requires more thought as to what you are about to do, and the tactile sensation is much greater than the pulling of a trigger, which strengthens the mental link of action to the bloody result.
With a blade of any kind, you have to really, really want the other man to be severely wounded or dead. You have to hack, stab, and slash until he is unable to fight back or dead, and either option takes a heavy amount of willpower behind it to accomplish. I assure you, if you run into a room with a machete and there is an enemy waiting there with one as well, you will feel the effort it takes to get out of the way when he swings at you, the weight of the weapons when they clash against one another, and you will see the agony that man goes through when you take off one of his limbs with yours. You honestly have to want someone to go through horrific pain when you swing at them with a sword or axe or mace.
My second reason for choosing older weaponry over newer things is purely aesthetic. While I know there will be those who argue that a gun is beautiful, and I may not necessarily disagree with them on that, I would say there is something more wholesome about an object that requires the personal handiwork of a smithy than there is about something that you can produce with the right amount of factory equipment. While is is true that now one can mass-produce blades, as in the machete example I gave above, in the past, even the weapons of the common footman had a fair degree of the touch of a smith’s hand behind them. This is why, even when comparing the millions of guns churned out for use by the military today and the thousands of weapons you see being industrially forged in the bowels of Isengard in the Two Towers movie, the blades and shields of the Uruk-hai still are a sight more beautiful, in all their blackened anonymity.
As I said initially, the aesthetics of guns and bombs are plain, they are about the destruction they can cause, whether in style or in magnitude. Any sap can pick up those weapons, even a sniper rifle, and cause some damage. While you can’t necessarily fly a plane, the button one presses to unleash that thunderous fury is usable by a five-year-old child. Arguably, those with special training can render an even better output of damage and death your average person, and in some cases, I will say that using any weapon can be turned into an art form. If you doubt this, you need only look below.
Over-the-top wire-fu and martial arts aside, you can hand a dummy a sword, and he might be able to swing it, but his odds are better in an even-weaponed gunfight, for guns are the great equalizer. You can be bigger and stronger and it will not save you from the bullet stuck between your eyes. You can be faster, but bullets once fired are pretty much impossible to dodge in real life. You can, however, try to watch where the muzzle is pointing, but that’s another story. You can have all the skill in the world, but one shot can render you just as lifeless. As opposed to this blunt bang-you’re-dead approach, let’s look at how bows and swords are used.
You can be fat with quick hands and a good eye, and use a gun effectively. You need to have good coordination, footwork, stamina, agility, and strength to take on a man with a blade. You can also add your personality to the weapon, giving it a more human touch. When you fight you develop your own style, your own flair, with how you use a sword. With a gun, well, while there are options, I will say that it does not seem like there are very many ways you can fight with one that are unique to you without throwing in the field of combat, which is true for any weapon. A sword you put your soul into, a gun, well, it is more of a tool than a work of art.
Before anything else, I’d like to thank you for reading this first virgin post, complete with that aromatic new-blog smell. Inhale deeply of my intellectual vapors, you must. I hope we have grand fun on this new Journey.
Now that the pleasantries are out of the way, it’s time to immolate some heretics.
NO WAIT! COME BACK, I WAS ONLY KIDDING!
Humor aside, I do intend that this first post set a general tone for some of what I will be doing as long as this thing lasts. And, as this is an infant blog, it could go up in smoke just as fast as I can say Velma the Velociraptor vaulted voluptuously, verifying V’s vicious vocal vendetta against Velma’s vacillatory vibes. Probably even faster because my tongue is uncannily clumsy with alliteration. So let us begin.
I would ask those who attack the Catholic Church to consider this line of thinking before they do anything else. What exactly are you attacking, and are you attacking it in a manner that will result in something good? Using data I have conjured up through statimancy, which I learned from Television News Broadcasters, I would say about 90% of the time you do not understand exactly what you are attacking and make your jabs with little idea as to their effect.
Nearly all of the people I have met or read or heard of have a habit of attacking the Church for the following; something horrible its members have done, or a bad personal experience with one of its members. As I am about to show, this is unproductive and actually destructive to society at large. There are far better ways you could handle the situation than trying to rip apart a two-thousand year old institution.
This is not about debating theology or doctrine or science or any of that right now. This is about looking at what the Church’s purpose is and what it is intended to accomplish. I will demonstrate that by giving you an outline of what my home country, the good old United States of America, would like if every citizen was Catholic and practiced it darn near perfectly. I would say perfectly, but then that would entail Heaven and ruin the point I am trying to make.
Firstly, all those poor, jobless, struggling people? Gone. They all are being cared for in hospitals, educated by donated money from their friends and neighbors, fed and clothed until they can get back on their feet, and spiritually healed by the ministrations of dedicated Priests and Nuns. All those greedy politicians? Gone. Politicians would work solely to manage the resources we have so that we function excellently as a country, for they would see it not only as a civic but divinely ordained duty that they must care for those that put them in power. Crime? Gone. When everyone respects the sanctity of human life, murder and violence become unthinkable, and theft is already pretty much gone due to the lack of poor people. The Death Penalty would no longer exist, and any current criminals would be healed by a new and vibrant influx of Priests. Abortion would not exist, there would be no need for the day after pill because rape would be unthinkable. Who would dare defile a daughter of God? Any children unable to be supported by those that had them would be cared for out of the benevolence of one’s Parish, which all would happily give money and time to. As for our fears of over-population, they are out of place. With everyone practicing abstinence before marriage, we would pretty much eradicate sexually transmitted disease, and with the strength of character and matrimonial love being celebrated, sex would be reserved and respected in a way that did not result in an obscene glut of children. Of course, people also forget that we have enough food to feed the world’s hungry by ourselves right now, and that more people means more minds focusing on how to feed the new population through better farming techniques and the like. In fact, most forget that an ideal Church would have roughly 25% or more of its population living in celibacy as Priests, Brothers, Sisters, and Nuns, to say nothing of the lay single life vocations. As for homosexuals, for I have heard voiced the fear that they would be exterminated, this is not part of Church teaching. Those with that trial to face would fare far better than they do now, being lovingly accepted by all and aided in their quest for a chaste life so that they might happily live out God’s plan for their lives. Respect for the arts and sciences would boom as people and the Church itself poured money into new technology and more and more beautiful works of art. The only limit to either of these things would be that they respect humanity in its sacredness. So, no fetal stem cells or cloning. No intentionally crass art. That’s about all we’d lose. Medicine itself would rise to new heights as people threw themselves body and soul at the behest of their God to heal the sick….
I’d go on, but I think I’ve said enough here. All of the above? THAT is the Church’s mission, along with the Salvation of the World. Granted, such an idealistic place is improbable, for the Church is a Hospital for Sinners, not a Country Club for Saints, and thus can be home to many a blackened and hardened heart. That is what you attack when you try to tear down the Church. Your efforts do not seem so righteous now, do they? If you would like a better suggestion as to how to deal with us, here’s one. When you see or hear or know any one of us who is not living out the Commandments of God, not living as a true Catholic should live, do not attack that which can make him do good. Remind him of the teachings of his own Faith, and send him back to us for some spiritual advising. This is easily applied to all Christians. I am asking you not to lay there and allow people to do Evil in the Name of God, but to enlist the Church in turning them back to the straight and narrow path. And time and time again, that is what we fight to do with any of our sheep who have gone astray. Westboro Baptists getting you down? You think that street-preacher is being too vicious? You hear that a Catholic shot an Abortionist? Let Christianity right the wrongs of its members, and help Us do so by pointing them to the Church teachings that forbid such things. Don’t sit there and shriek about how all of us are evil and try to tear the whole Church down.