Sound Bites Really Bite

Have you noticed that the broadcast news media is obsessed with sound bites? Nowadays almost every news report includes a quick comment from someone involved in the story. However, these sound bites rarely offer any insight, except the insight that the reporter had 15 seconds to fill and decided to fill that time with a useless quotation. There are three primary categories of useless sound bites:

Moronic Statements. Just because someone agrees to speak “on camera” does not automatically mean that person has anything worth saying. For example, a while back I heard a radio news report about mudslides and floods that were ravaging parts of California. After explaining that the weather forecast called for at least 6 more inches of rain during the next 24 hours, the reporter played a sound bite from an area resident.

However, it wasn’t just any area resident, for example, a person worried that his house was about to be washed away. No, the reporter chose to broadcast the thoughts — and I use that word very loosely — of a teenage boy with the IQ of broccoli. Young broccoli boy declared over an entire radio news network: “This is cool! I’ve never seen a flood before!”

Apparently if you have the IQ of broccoli you not only can be featured on a network news report, you also can get a job as a broadcast news reporter. Which leads us to the next category…

Moronic Questions by the Reporter. Here’s the scenario: something terrible has occurred — a child is missing or a home has burned to the ground. A distraught victim, possibly the mother of the kidnapped girl or the man whose house was destroyed, is accosted by a TV camera crew. The reporter shoves a microphone in the person’s face and asks the million-dollar question: “How do you feel right now?”

I don’t expect distraught people to be able to think quickly on their feet, but I’m hoping one day the person will reply, “How do I feel? I feel that’s the stupidest question I’ve ever heard. Here’s a question for you: how do YOU feel now that I’ve shoved your microphone completely inside your left nostril?”

A Word from Mom. Whenever someone is arrested for committing a heinous crime, a camera crew always tracks down his mother. No matter how clear it is that her son committed the crime — such as surveillance video showing him smile at the camera before methodically shooting the convenience store clerk — the mother’s sound bite is always the same: “My son didn’t do it! He’s a good boy. The cops set him up!”

Many years ago, there was a horrible event in a city near where I live. A young man who had been convicted of auto theft four times in the past (makes you wonder how many times he stole a car and didn’t get caught) was spotted by cops driving yet another stolen car. The guy took off, drove through a red light at 80 mph, and smashed broadside into another car, instantly killing a husband and wife.

The guy’s mother was quoted as saying, “He’s a good person. He has a good heart.” I guess you could say his heart is “good,” in the sense that it’s still beating, which cannot be said for the hearts of the two innocent people he killed.

We really don’t need to hear from the mothers of criminals, nor do we need to hear from most of the other people featured on news story sound bites. Hey, I have a crazy idea: why don’t the broadcast news folks just give us the facts about a story and leave the emotional nonsense to the celebrity gossip programs?

Which Worldview Is the Least Implausible?

There is a lot of skepticism in our society about religion nowadays. And rightfully so, since organized religion in recent decades has not been very organized nor religious. But let’s take a step back and review those age-old philosophical questions: How did human beings get here? And what is our purpose in life?

Now, of course, we may not be able to know the answers to these age-old questions, but since we exist, we know there has to be a correct explanation of how we got here—even if we may not be able to know it. And since we exist, it’s perfectly rational to ponder our purpose in life, even if it turns out there is no purpose.

All religious traditions, including decidedly non-religious belief systems, claim to answer these questions. Whether it’s Christianity, Judaism, Islam, Deism, Unitarianism, Animism, Atheism, Agnosticism, Buddhism, Confucianism, Hinduism, Shintoism, or whatever it is the Jesuits are peddling nowadays—all these different “worldviews” claim to offer an explanation of how and why human beings exist on this planet. Many views confidently offer clear and precise explanations, while others acknowledge there is an explanation but we mere mortals are unable to know it.

Taken individually, each of these widely different explanations seems kind of implausible. But they cover just about every possibility, so we know one of them must be close to the truth.

So, here is the key question we have to explore: Which of these seemingly implausible explanations about the origin and purpose of life is the most plausible? In other words, which of these unlikely stories is the most likely?

I don’t want to brag, but I’ve spent a great deal of time during the past three decades studying this very issue. (Did you ever notice when someone says, “I don’t want to brag,” he is about to start bragging?) Well, anyway, here’s a summary of what I’ve discovered:

First, we have to look at the question of supernatural vs. natural. If it’s true that we came into existence by purely natural, materialistic, biological mechanisms, then all of the spiritual, supernatural beliefs, with their claims of a creative Deity, can be dismissed. The simplest answer is usually the best, and if it can be demonstrated that non-supernatural processes are capable of producing complex biological life, then that is the most logical conclusion.

If you’ve taken a high school or college biology class in the past 50 years, you’ve probably been taught that this is, in fact, the explanation of how life came into existence on this planet. But let’s step on the brakes for a minute here. Modern science has NOT demonstrated in any way that random genetic mutations can create reams of precise information that then guide the construction of complex biological systems. It just cannot happen. The formula “Chaos + Chance + Time = Intricate Precision” has never been proven to be true.

As I’ve mentioned in the past, I was an atheist for many years, but once I really studied this issue, it became clear that the complex design clearly present in biological life requires a supremely intelligent designer; or I should say Designer, with a capital “D.” In other words, it’s an undeniable fact that explosions in lumber yards do not produce perfectly crafted 3-bedroom raised ranch houses. Nor do hurricanes pounding the shoreline spell out the Gettysburg Address on the beach with rocks. It just can’t happen.

Science has never “proven” that there is no supernatural realm to existence, no matter what most science teachers and professors claim these days. In fact, science, by definition, can only study natural phenomenon. Science is incapable of offering any opinion on supernatural things.

Personally, when I reached this point in my studies, I was, on the one hand, awestruck at the realization that there is indeed a supernatural Being who designed and created life. And on the other hand, I was rather angry at all the educators who blithely told me that random chaos can produce intricate precision, if just given enough time. Bull-loney.

Speaking of time, we’re out of time for today, but next week I’ll continue with Part 2. Once we accept that there must be an intelligent being outside of nature (that is, supernatural) who designed and created complex biological life, we need to investigate which of the many religious systems best explains our situation here on earth? I don’t want to brag, but it is a fascinating discussion.

Car Wash Daydream Turns to Wet Reality

Did you ever think about something that could occur, and then daydream about how you would react if it did occur, including how you would react to the fact that you were daydreaming about how you would react, until you reached the point where you concluded the particular scenario will not occur precisely because you’ve been daydreaming about it?

Nah, me neither. But I did have something happen recently that was pretty weird and kind of along those lines.

By the way, if you noticed a clean, gray Chevy Equinox a month ago driving along East Main Street with a low-pressure system causing fog and rain showers — inside the car — that was me.

One morning my car was more yellow than gray because of all the pine tree pollen blowing through the air. So, I visited one of those automatic car washes. As my car rolled into place, with the left front tire firmly settled into that thingamajig (car wash industry technical term: “doohickey”), I did what I always do just before the wash cycle begins: I checked to make sure all the windows were rolled up tightly by hitting the four power window buttons.

Then as the car wash machinery started up, I began to daydream. I thought to myself: I wonder what would happen if I was stupid enough to leave one of the windows open? I wonder how soon I would notice it? I wonder how quickly I would figure out what was wrong and hit the correct button to close the open window? I wonder how much water would get inside the car before I got the window closed?

Then I had this thought: Well, that certainly won’t happen now because I’ve just been thinking about it happening. A moment later, the back of my head and neck got soaked as a rush of water burst into the car through the back left window, which was open about three inches.

So here are the answers, in order, to the questions I pondered: The inside of the car would get wet, very wet. I would notice it right away, as getting the back of one’s head and neck unexpectedly soaked is a fairly effective method for getting one’s attention. I would figure out what was wrong quite quickly and hit the correct button to close the open window in less than two seconds, although at the time it seemed like at least 45 seconds. And finally, it would be hard to determine the exact volume of water — as it was all over the seats and the carpeting and a now drenched stack of marketing literature — but it definitely would be closer to gallons than ounces.

I still don’t know how the window was left open. Maybe I checked the front window buttons twice and not the back windows at all.

As I sat there while the washing continued — all on the outside now, how nice — I was more stunned by the fact that I had just daydreamed that exact scenario before it happened than I was stunned by the fact that the backseat of my car now resembled a tropical rain forest.

I drove home carefully since fog was beginning to form on the inside of the car windows. I began to daydream again: What if this fog causes me to drive through a red light and smash up the car? What if — Oh no, don’t go there! Think of something else, pal!

So, I quickly started to think about a scenario that cannot and will not happen: What if I win the Lottery and buy a fleet of cars and hire other people, with a lot more brains than I have, to wash them?

Does God Know My Name?

Our parish had a visiting priest a couple of months ago. He’s a terrific young man, who’s native language is Spanish, but he speaks English quite well. In fact, he often tutors seminarians from Spanish-speaking countries, helping them to learn English.

During a homily, he mentioned to us that one seminarian was trying to learn the Our Father prayer in English. This is how he recited that prayer: “Our Father, who art in Heaven, how do you know my name?”

The whole congregation laughed at the cute mistake, of course. But after Mass, I was thinking about it, and I came to the conclusion that the young Spanish seminarian’s mistake is actually a fabulous prayer. We all should say to God on a regular basis, “Hey Lord, how DO you know my name?”

It’s mind boggling, when you think about it. There are almost eight billion people alive on earth right now, and since human beings first appeared on this planet, it is estimated that a total of 108 billion people have lived. Let me spell that out for you with numbers: 108,000,000,000. That’s one-zero-eight, comma, zero-zero-zero, comma, zero-zero-zero, comma, zero-zero-zero! One hundred eight billion, with a “B”! That’s a lot of people. And you thought your morning commute to work was crowded.

Our Christian faith tells us that God, the almighty Creator, breathed an eternal soul into each and every one of those people, and He knows each and every one of them by name. That includes you. That includes me.

This raises two questions. First, HOW can God do that? I mean, how can one Person, regardless of how supernatural and almighty He might be, keep track of that many souls? It makes your head spin.

The second question is more important: WHY does God do that? Why does God care enough to go to all the trouble of knowing about and caring for each and every one of the 108 billion people who have ever lived?

There’s only one answer: love. Love is why God cares. Love is why God knows our name.

When we ask God, “How do you know my name?” we’re not simply referring to our name-name, such as Bill or Bob, Sally or Sue. We mean our identity, who we are, our very soul, the essence of our very being. In ancient times, a name meant so much more than just a verbal noise that identified one person compared to others in the neighborhood. Remember that old expression, “Don’t tarnish your good name”? That kind of reflects the importance of a person’s name.

God knows our name, meaning He knows us intimately. He knows us and He loves us. So, when we offer up a prayer saying, “Our Father who art in Heaven, how do you know my name?” we are expressing wonder at the fact that out of 108 billion souls who have ever lived, the Creator of the Universe knows us personally, individually, intimately. That is a great comfort, especially nowadays in our cold, cruel, impersonal culture.

When we offer that prayer, since it’s in the form of a question, we are in a sense pleading for the Divine Being not to lose sight of us. We’re desperately asking that He continues to know us and care for us.

The Good News of the Gospel is that God does indeed know us and care for us. Our lives have meaning and purpose. We did not accidentally appear on the pale blue dot in a far corner of the Universe, spend a few decades struggling to survive, and then die and cease to exist.

We were created for a purpose, and our souls will live forever. If we accept God’s love and put our faith in Him, then forever will be in His glorious presence. If we reject Him, well, then forever will not be so pleasant.

Our Father, who art in Heaven, how do you know my name? HOW does He know all of our names? I can’t even fathom it. WHY does He know our names? Because of pure love.

Is He Obsessed with Old Age?

Recently, a friend said to me, “Hey Bill, for the last two years, every single one of your columns has discussed the fact that you are getting old. Why are you obsessed with that topic?”

Now, obviously that is a ridiculous exaggeration. Every single one of my columns during the past two years has NOT discussed the fact that I’m getting old. I looked through my archives, and in the third week of April, 2018, I wrote a column that had nothing to do with getting old. So there! Nyahh nyahh! (I may be getting old, but I’m certainly not getting mature.)

Well, it might be true that I have written a lot of columns recently about the aging process. But there is a very good reason for that: once you become a senior citizen, that is ALL you think about.

Every activity throughout the day is viewed through the lens of geezerhood. For example, if you are planning to drive somewhere, the most important thing to figure out — even more important than your actual destination — is where you can stop along the way for bathroom breaks. You also calculate if any of the driving will take place at night, and if so, you immediately cancel the trip.

If you are about to eat something, you first ponder whether the food will aggravate your current gastrointestinal issue(s). Sometimes you come to the end of an extravagant buffet line with just a bowl of chicken soup and some Saltines on your tray. All the other foods are way too risky.

If you’re about to do a chore or project around the house, you first ask yourself, “Will lifting this object reinjure my back and/or knee?” Your next thought is, “Who do I know that’s young and healthy — that is, age 50 or less — who I can pay to do this for me?”

If the chore or project does not involve heavy lifting (“heavy” being described as anything over 10 pounds), but instead requires exceptional fingertip dexterity, such as changing a watch battery, you ask, “If I put on two pairs of reading glasses, will I be able to see the tiny numbers on the back of that button battery?” Even if the answer is yes, you still wonder, “But will my arthritic fingers be able to work that teeny screwdriver?” At that point, you usually say, “Ahh, forget it. It’s easier to go buy a new watch.”

Even while sitting on the couch watching a ball game, age becomes a factor. Senior citizen sports fans will say something like, “If you think that guy’s good, you should’ve seen Roberto Clemente.” And if a younger person in the room says, “Clemente? Is he that new hip-hop singer?” the immediate reply is, “Get out of my house. Now!”

Many times before doing an activity, the question we seniors ask ourselves is, “OK, if I do this, which of my ‘ologists’ will I likely have to see?”

The list includes cardiologist, urologist, dermatologist, endocrinologist, orthopedicologist (yeah, I know that’s not what they’re called), neurologist, rheumatologist, gastroenterologist, and if you’re really really old, archeologist.

So, as you can see, it’s not that I’m “obsessed” with senior citizenhood and therefore compelled to write about it constantly. It’s just that the topics of my essays usually are about what’s going on in my life, and now that I’m a senior, the reality of the aging process impacts every aspect of my existence, and so what happens simply is this: I’m compelled to write about it constantly.

Just to prove that I don’t always write about this topic, next week I’ll discuss something completely different: the Social Security system and retirement planning.

Ah-choo! Jesus Bless You

Have you ever noticed how often people use the word God in everyday speech? We say things such as “Oh my God!” (also known as OMG in text message shorthand). We say, “God bless you,” “God forbid,” “By the grace of God,” “For the love of God,” “For God’s sake,” “It was an act of God,” “The wrath of God,” “Honest to God,” and, “Thank God it’s Friday!” (the famous TGIF).

Granted, most of the time when people use these expressions they are not consciously thinking about the almighty divine Creator. They instead are using culturally common figures of speech. 

Even many agnostics and atheists use these phrases, and certainly they are not renouncing their secular worldview and suddenly proclaiming faith in God. They’re just using traditional phrases to express everyday surprise, anger, fear, joy, frustration, etc.

Frankly, I’m not really sure if these expressions are violations of the Commandment about taking the Lord’s name in vain. I hope they are not, for the sake of the zillions of us who instinctively use these phrases on a regular basis. I truly believe that God cuts us some slack when we commit sins out of ignorance. So, if these common expressions are in fact taking His name in vain, I think He understands that we’re not consciously trying to be blasphemous. At least I hope that’s the case. I guess we should bring it up for discussion the next time we’re in the confessional.

Anyway, since we regularly use these expressions that contain the word God, and no one thinks we’re making religious pronouncements, we should try an experiment. Instead of saying the word God, let’s substitute the name Jesus. Like this: “Oh my Jesus,” “For the love of Jesus,” “Honest to Jesus,” “Jesus willin’ and the creek don’t rise,” “Jesus forbid,” “Jesus works in mysterious ways,” and, “Thank Jesus it’s Friday!”

Here is the most common one of all. Whenever anyone sneezes, say as nicely as you can, “Jesus bless you.”

Unlike the common expressions using the word God, which no one thinks twice about, if we substitute Jesus, I suspect a lot of people will pause and say, “Huh?” And that’s exactly what we want them to do: pause and ponder the name of Jesus.

If a relative, friend, or coworker pauses and says, “Huh? What’d you just say?” we can reply, “I just said ‘Jesus bless you’ instead of ‘God bless you.’ It means the same thing to me, since Jesus is God.”

I’m not saying that when Dave from Accounting sneezes on a Tuesday afternoon, the goal is to initiate a long and deep conversation about the doctrine of the Holy Trinity, and the fact that in Christian theology, as the Nicene Creed says, Jesus Christ is “true God from true God, begotten, not made, consubstantial with the Father.”

That might be a little much, especially since Dave from Accounting is probably more concerned at that moment with finding a clean tissue.

It’s likely that most Christians rarely ponder those words from the Nicene Creed (and I suspect most Catholics have never pondered them, even though we recite those words at every Sunday Mass). But the fact is, those words express a basic Christian belief: Jesus is the Second Person of the Trinity, one-in-being with God the Father and the Holy Spirit.

Maybe it’s time we took that belief more to heart and expressed it in a somewhat subtle way to our friends and family. Let’s substitute the name Jesus in all those traditional figures of speech. Try typing OMJ in your text messages, and say, “Jesus bless you,” when coworkers sneeze. I don’t think Dave from Accounting will mind, and it might even get him thinking about faith—right after he finds a clean tissue.

Goofy Is Better Than Grumpy

I have to make an important decision soon, and I hope I make the right choice. In just a few years it will be time for me to be either a Grumpy Old Man or a Goofy Old Man. Having been in the presence of many Grumpy Old Men during my life, I hope I choose the other path.

To be a Goof rather than a Grump will require a lot of willpower, since I’ve heard the aging process reduces the body’s natural defenses against a case of crotchety-itis.

When I hit that age, I want to spend a lot of time walking around the neighborhood in just my bathrobe and slippers, waving hello to everyone I see. As the terrycloth belt of my bathrobe gets looser and looser, the neighbors will wave back with a nervous smile and think to themselves, “I wonder if he’s wearing anything under that robe?” (Don’t worry. I’ll have on my Red Sox gym shorts. I want to be a G.O.M. not a D.O.M.)

The key to being a proper Goofy Old Man, I think, is going to be my cane. I don’t actually need a cane right now, but the way my knee feels nowadays, I’m sure I’ll need one soon — possibly by the time you finish reading this essay.

Anyway, a cane is a perfect prop for G.O.M.P.A. (Also known as Goofy Old Man Performance Art.) For example, a cane is ideal for playing air guitar, and I want to make sure I can nail the opening riff of “Smoke on the Water.” And if that Deep Purple classic is not actually playing at the moment, then I’ll just sing it out loud with a nasally, “Nayhrrrt nayrr-nayrrrrr, ner-nerr nay-nayrr. Nayhrrrt nayrr-nayrrr, nayr-nayrrrr.”

I just have to remember not to do any Pete Townsend windmills with my air guitar cane, because I hear rotator cuff surgery is really painful.

Another way to differentiate between a Grumpy Old Man and a Goofy Old Man is how they react to neighborhood kids playing in their yards. The Grumpy guy will lean out the front door and yell, “Get off my lawn!” But what I want to do instead is go outside and say, “Here, let me show you the proper way to slide into second base.”

Then a few moments later one of the kids will say, “Whoa, I was worried for a minute, but he IS wearing gym shorts under that robe.” And another kid will say, “Thanks for the baseball lesson, but, um, we’re playing soccer.” Still another kid will say, “Gee, mister, is your leg supposed to be bent like that?” Finally, I’ll say, “Could one of you call 9-1-1 on your cell phone? And look under that bush. I think a couple of my ligaments bounced over there.”

Another thing that will assist my efforts to be a Goofy Old Man is to employ malapropisms, like the ones often uttered by my two favorite cartoon characters: Bugs Bunny and Norm Crosby.

For example: “What a maroon!” “Don’t make a skeptical of yourself.” “Thank you, I depreciate it.”

Along with these: “Speak up, I don’t have 20/20 hearing anymore.” “I resemble that remark.” “He’s a vast suppository of information.”

In contusion, to be a Goofy Old Man rather than a Grumpy Old Man, I’ll have to avoid frustration and anger. The best way to do that is to trust the Big Man in the sky. Or maybe that’s the Big Man in disguise.

Now, where’s my cane? I need to air guitar some “Purple Haze.” “Nayr-nayr-neh-nayrrr, neh-nayr-nayrrrr!”

Time for the Conn. Catholic Men’s Conference

Hi guys! It’s that time of year again for the annual Connecticut Catholic Men’s Conference. This day-long conference will be held once again at St. Paul’s High School, 1001 Stafford Ave., in Bristol, CT. The date is Saturday, October 19th, 2019, and the time is from 8:30 a.m. until the conclusion of Vigil Mass at about 5 p.m.

It you’ve attended the Men’s Conference in the past, then you already know it’s a wonderful opportunity to renew your faith life and connect with hundreds of other guys who are trying to do the right thing and be faithful in our confused and faithless society.

If you’ve never attended the Men’s Conference, let me try to explain why it’s so important that you attend this year. First, we have to understand that our modern American culture—including and especially our Church—is having a crisis of masculinity. We hear a lot these days about “toxic masculinity,” as personified by Harvey Weinstein, Jeffrey Epstein, and many other men whose behavior was exposed during the “Me too” frenzy a couple of years ago. Treating women as sexual playthings obviously is not Godly masculinity; it’s just being a selfish creep.

On the other hand, our Church for many decades now has been noticeably feminized. The majority of people who attend Mass on a regular basis are women and children. And in the wake of the Theodore McCarrick scandal last year, we’ve learned that a huge percentage of our clergy would rather, um, let me see if I can phrase this correctly, would rather make a kale salad with cranberries than throw a football out in the yard.

I’m certainly not saying that our priests and bishops ought to be crude beer-chuggers who drive pickup trucks into the woods and hunt bears. (Although if some of them did that, it would be kind of cool.) I’m just saying that when you think of occupations that are “ruggedly masculine,” the Catholic priesthood is way down on the list.

To have the proper balance of masculine and feminine traits in our Church, the needed boost of additional testosterone is going to have to come from the laity. And that’s where the Connecticut Catholic Men’s Conference comes in. The theme of this year’s Conference is “Forge Your Path to Holiness.” The organizers of the Conference specifically chose the word “forge” to invoke the image of St. Michael’s sword.

Yes, I know. The thought of a weapon, whether actual or symbolic, makes many folks faint with fear nowadays. But let me try to clarify: Being a spiritual warrior does not mean you wield power over others and dominate people for your own selfish gain. Being a spiritual warrior means you are willing to defend your family and your Church and your community against the forces of evil.

(By the way, it’s very fashionable these days to downplay the concept of evil, and instead claim the real problem is that people occasionally make poor choices. Hmm, that kind of thinking must be the result of too much kale and cranberries. The fact is, evil is real, and it’s our duty to fight against it.)

The traits of true Catholic masculinity are courage, strength, holiness, and most of all, being willing to lay down your life for your friends and family. True Catholic masculinity overflows with love and sacrifice. Catholic men are most masculine when they bow down before God Almighty and seek to do His will.

When you spend an entire day with fellow Catholic men—listening to great speakers, enjoying the food and fellowship, receiving the sacraments of Reconciliation and Eucharist—you will get a booster shot of courage, strength, and holiness. You will be filled with Catholic masculinity.

Please check out the website: CTCatholicMen.org , where you can learn more about the Conference and register. I hope to see you there, guys. And I’ve got it on good authority that there will be no kale and cranberries at the Conference.

(For a chuckle on this topic, see: https://babylonbee.com/news/least-masculine-society-in-human-history-decides-masculinity-is-a-growing-threat )

Cut Bad Bosses Some Slack

Recently I found an old issue of “Bloomberg Businessweek” magazine, and the main theme that week was “Trouble at the Office.” Most of the articles were inspired by readers who complained about problems in their workplaces. And many of those problems dealt with bad bosses. Some of the articles were titled, “Toxic Bosses,” “How to Live with the S.O.B.,” and “Are You Being a Jerk…Again?”

Most of the bosses in the articles were portrayed as a combination of pure incompetence, similar to the clueless boss in the Dilbert comic strip, and pure evil, similar to Nasty McGillicuddy, a kid I knew in the 6th grade who liked to torture helpless creatures, such as frogs, cats, and 5th graders.

The primary tone of the articles was something along the lines of: You should try to learn coping skills to keep your boss from getting under your skin because you’ll probably get caught if you kill him, even if the cops never find the body. The magazine seemed to imply that all bosses in all organizations throughout all of history have been and continue to be sadistic slave drivers.

And, of course, this is quite true. The very nature of the boss-worker relationship guarantees acrimony and hard feelings. This is because the boss needs the employees to work harder and to be more productive than the employees think necessary. Just imagine all those times you told your teenage children to clean their rooms. Your definition of “clean” meant clean, while their definition of “clean” meant not quite condemned by the Board of Health. Now just imagine every time you had those conversations with your kids, they were defended by a team of O.S.H.A. bureaucrats, workplace attorneys, and labor union officials. It’s enough to turn any parent into Dilbert’s pointy-haired boss — or Nasty McGillicuddy.

It’s easy to bash bosses since they have more power, they make more money, and they can leave in the middle of the afternoon to play golf “with a customer.” (You always make little air quotes with your fingers when saying “with a customer,” which is office code for “most definitely NOT with a customer.”)

For many years during my work career I was the direct supervisor of other employees. For a while I was the manager of a department of about 20 people in a factory. Then I was the supervisor of six people in a sales office. Let me tell you, there was nothing whatsoever good about being the boss — as long as you don’t count more power, more money, and leaving in the middle of the afternoon to play golf “with a customer.”

It’s been quite a while since I’ve been the direct supervisor of anyone, and that’s just the way I like it. The main problem with being a boss is that, unless you are the C.E.O. of the company, you are being supervised by an even higher up boss. And your job performance is based exclusively on how much blood, er, I mean, work, you can squeeze out the employees under you.

It’s a no-win situation for a boss. If the boss tries to be a decent guy and treat the workers nicely, then his higher up boss will come down on him like a ton of bricks. If he wants to please his higher up boss, then he has to crack the whip.

If you think your boss is a total jerk, please cut him some slack. Who knows, he might be getting dumped on by his boss, and in reality, he’s only a partial jerk. However, if your boss is named Nasty McGillicuddy, I suggest you turn and run as fast as you can.

Catholics Confuse Symbols and Substance

So, what’s new in the Catholic world these days? Well, a recent survey found that 7 out of 10 Catholics do not believe the Eucharist is the real body and blood of Jesus. Instead, these 70% of American Catholics think the Eucharist is just a symbol, which directly rejects 2,000 years of Church teaching.

Also, in recent weeks, the head of the Jesuit order said that Satan is not real. Fr. Arturo Sosa, SJ, the Superior General of the Jesuits, said, “The devil exists as a symbolic reality, not as a personal reality.” This view, too, rejects 2,000 years of Church teaching.

Hmm, seems like there is a lot of confusion these days about what is and is not a symbol. Now, don’t get me wrong. Symbols are very important, and our Christian faith tradition uses symbols and symbolic language all the time. And don’t forget, Jesus frequently taught using parables and analogies, which often used symbolism to make key points.

But here’s the thing: if we take firm, fundamental doctrines and reduce them to mere symbols, we drain all the power and meaning out of them.

Regarding the Eucharist, the Catechism of the Catholic Church clearly states it is “the source and summit of the Christian life.” But if it’s just a symbol, there’s no way the Eucharist has the power to be the source and summit of faith. It can only be that important if it truly is the body and blood, soul and divinity of Jesus Christ Himself.

From the very beginning of Christianity, 20 centuries ago, the Church taught and the faithful believed that Jesus’ body and blood truly become present when the priest consecrates the bread and wine. Can we possibly explain in scientific terms how this happens? No, of course not. It’s an article of faith, and we believe it’s true because Jesus said so.

The gifted 20th century author Flannery O’Connor commented on this in her typical blunt way. If the Eucharist is not the real body and blood of Christ, she said, “Then to hell with it!”

During the past couple of generations, Mass attendance has dropped in the United States approximately 70%. Gee, I wonder if that has anything to do with the fact that 70% of Catholics do not believe in the Real Presence of the Eucharist. Just sayin’.

If someone truly, truly believes in his heart that the body and blood, soul and divinity of Jesus Christ becomes present at Mass in the elements of bread and wine, as a result of a supernatural miracle of God, then that person would never miss Sunday Mass. But if he thinks the bread and wine are just plain old bread and wine, and merely symbolize something or other about Jesus, then he’s not going to be too bothered if he misses Mass once or twice or a hundred times.

Regarding whether or not Satan is a personal being, the statistics are even worse. A recent survey indicates that 83% of Catholics agree with the head of the Jesuits: the devil does not really exist. But again, Scripture and the words of Jesus are very clear: Satan is a fallen angel who rebelled against God and was cast out of Heaven, and now he prowls about the world seeking to devour innocent human souls.

If we don’t believe what the Church teaches about Satan, we are not going to be aware of his sneaky attacks and temptations. And if we don’t regularly fill ourselves with a supernatural power to resist the devil—primarily by receiving the Eucharist—our souls are ripe for the picking.

Let me remind you of two important truths: being separated from the love of God is extremely painful, and eternity is a really long time.

Please don’t fall for the symbolism fad. The Eucharist IS the body and blood of Jesus. And Satan IS an evil personal being. Jesus clearly taught this, and the sooner we embrace these truths the sooner we can be victorious in the ongoing spiritual battle.