RWANDA’S LESSON ABOUT GOVERNMENT

Her story is a truly amazing one. She came from a fairly well-to-do, religious Catholic family in a small town in Western Rwanda. Her parents were educators, heavily involved in charities and community-minded. Then the horrible genocide of 1994 began. She got home from college just as the maelstrom of killing began. Her father sent her to the local Protestant pastor in hopes he would hide her from the machete-wielding Hutus bent on wiping out the Tutsis. The pastor did hide her with seven other women in a tiny bathroom (see the picture above) where she spent three months praying and becoming transformed in mind and heart. It is a story replete with miracles and palpable evidence of the Providence of God. Her entire family (save one brother) and most of her friends were wiped out and at several times she really should have met their fate, too. But she feels she was saved for the purpose of warning the world at large about the dangers she saw herself. Her remedy?: Faith, Family, Forgiveness, Fortitude. These are the most powerful forces in the world building a Kingdom that is unshakeable.

After reading her books, one fact struck me pretty hard: this was a GOVERNMENT-SPONSORED genocide. Some blame can be laid at the feet of the Belgians for the adversarial structures they purposefully left. For decades, the dominant Hutu tribe used government social policy and rules to marginalize the smaller Tutsi tribe (also known by some as the ‘Wahtusi’). Immaculee experienced this when she was forced to always show her tribal identification card at school, for instance. [Immaculee finds this quite ironic in that centuries of intermarriage have made the physical distinctions almost useless, much as the ‘Aryan’ ravings of the Nazis had little factual basis.] The government also co-opted media sources, making them into propagandistic hate sites. Tutsis were routinely labeled ‘cockroaches’ or vermin and were increasingly barred from access to knowledge and power. When the Hutu President was killed in 1994, the government officially closed everything so that killing squads, trained for years, could devote alltheir energy to implementing the ‘final solution’ of killing ALL Tutsis.

It’s amazing how powerful government and media can be. Immaculee’s own friends and neighbors, people she knew and trusted, were among those taunting her in the house where she was hiding, describing how they would slowly torture and gang rape her. About a million people were killed in ways so heinous it was like hell on earth.

And yet, partly thanks to people like Immaculee, a grass-roots movement (not a government mandate!) of forgiveness and charity has helped make Rwanda a re-born jewel of prosperity and peace. (The Benebikira Sisters, a Catholic order of nuns, which takes care of hundreds of orphans, is part of this general effort.)

There is certainly a lesson here for us in this country right now. It’s never a good thing to give any government too much of the power we the people have by right. What are this remarkable story and this remarkable woman trying to teach us?

I invite you to read what Immaculee has to say. And please spread the word. It’s too important to keep it under a bushel basket.

POPE POPS PELOSI OVER PERVERTED PRO-LIFE PROCLAMATIONS! 

This tack taken by the Pope is in obvious and conscious contradistinction to the very public & loopy statements of ‘theology’ put out by Pelosi on the topic of human life [e.g. http://www.catholicsinpubliclife.org/page2/page14/files/1908780af1e21f6b66f30772f8234fa8-14.html].

Way to go, Pope! This is the sort of things leaders are SUPPOSED to do! Now it’s time for the U.S, Bishops to follow up, because the media will obviously try to hush this result up. Let’s do our best not to let them, too.

And let’s pray for Pelosi or some other unforeseen stalwart to have a change of heart and step forward on this and all the other important issues. Whittaker Chambers was a sold-out undercover Soviet spy who had given up everything to destroy capitalism and democracy, the sort of fanatic who doesn’t get turned from their path. In his classic autobiography, “WITNESS” it was the party’s demand that he and his wife abort their child which began his slow Exodus to sanity. He was forced to think about what he believed. “I felt like I was joining the losing side,” he commented. Yet, he and others like him helped to turn the seemingly inexorable tide of Marxism. Maybe this meeting will be the sort of shock to Pelosi’s moral system that she needs.

This is another time we need to turn the tide. We need more ‘witnesses’. Can I get a witness?

THE MIRACLE INSIDE THE MIRACLE

Here is a story worth sharing from the Divine Mercy website:  [http://thedivinemercy.org/news/story.php?NID=3493].  Miracles are only pointers or signs indicating the real miracle of grace in human hearts.

By Felix Carroll (Feb 4, 2009)

A banker on a business trip in New York City, Fred Berretta had just checked into his hotel room. He had about 20 minutes down time before he had to meet his colleagues.

For some reason he decided to clean out his briefcase, something he hadn't done in a long time. As he emptied it out, he came across a booklet he had stuffed into a pocket years ago on praying the Chaplet of The Divine Mercy. He recalls having prayed it a few times years ago. But by Jan. 15, 2009, it was a good intention mislaid — among spreadsheets and quarterly reports and matters that seemed far more pressing.

Only two weeks prior, Fred had made a New Year's resolution to try to get into better spiritual shape. Here in this hotel room was an opportunity to fulfill it. So he followed along in the booklet and prayed the chaplet, a prayer our Lord gave to St. Maria Faustina Kowalska in the 1930s during a series of revelations that have sparked the modern Divine Mercy movement.

The time happened to be 3 o'clock, known as the Hour of Great Mercy, when Jesus died on the cross. Fred would consider that detail the following day — as he was preparing to die.

He would be among the 155 people to board a jet airliner at LaGuardia Airport bound for Charlotte, N.C., his home town. Ninety seconds after takeoff, the jet would apparently hit a flock of geese, the engines would explode, and the plane would lose power at 3,200 feet. The aircraft would be out of reach from any airfield. It would lose thrust and altitude. Everything would become eerily quiet. Fred would cinch his seatbelt. His left hand would clutch the armrest, his heart would race, his face would be flush.

He would think about his family — his wife and four young children. He would think about God, about death, about trust, about an extraordinary promise made by Jesus that he read the previous day in that booklet.

"Prepare for impact," the pilot would say over the PA system.

What was the promise? Suddenly, it would come to him, the last passage he read before heading off to his meeting. Jesus said to St. Faustina, "This is the hour of great mercy. In this hour, I will refuse nothing to the soul that makes a request of Me in virtue of My Passion (Diary of St. Faustina, 1320).

As the ground surged into view, Fred would look at his watch. It would be 3:30, the Hour of Great Mercy!

"I prayed with every fiber of emotion and sincerity I could muster, 'God, please be merciful to us,'" Fred would recall two weeks later.

'Miracle on the Hudson'?

You've probably heard about the crash landing of Flight 1549 in the Hudson River on Jan. 15. No one was seriously injured. Politicians and news anchors quickly dubbed it the "Miracle on the Hudson." In the history of aviation no jet airliner had ever made an emergency landing on water without casualties.

Then, there were the news images of a US Airways Airbus floating gently down the frigid Hudson, like some sort of breaching, people-friendly, aquatic creature. The passengers stood on its wings, calmly awaiting rescue. Amidst all the news of economic collapse, of tens of thousands of layoffs on a weekly basis, of families in peril, of a reckoning at hand for a culture of greed, this plane, these passengers, its pilot, all served as a sort of restorative balm on our nation's collective conscious.

The story made you gasp, gulp hard, smile widely, and be thankful. Thankful for what? For good news. For heroes in the pilot, Chesley "Sully" Sullenberger, and the rest of the crew. Thankful in the knowledge that in the panic-filled moments when the plane lurched to a stop it wasn't every man and woman for himself or herself. Thankful that humanity's better nature was on display. Thankful the incident wasn't terrorist-related, but apparently geese-related. Thankful that a guy like Fred Berretta, 41, would live to walk through the door of his home once again, hug his wife and children, and make sure they knew he loved them — that he always had and that he always will.

Vinny Flynn who?

For devotees of Divine Mercy, Flight 1549 serves as further proof that the Lord keeps His promises.

We may never have learned Fred Berretta's story if it weren't for Vinny Flynn. Following the crash, Fred felt compelled to send an email of thanks to Vinny, the former executive editor at the Marian Helpers Center, in Stockbridge, Mass. Though Vinny and his family are seen daily at 3 p.m. (EST) on EWTN singing the Chaplet of The Divine Mercy from the National Shrine of The Divine Mercy in Stockbridge, Fred had never heard of Vinny until about two hours before he boarded Flight 1549.

Following morning meetings on Jan. 15, Fred found himself in the unusual position of having some free time on a business trip. It was noon. He stepped inside Manhattan's St. Patrick's Cathedral. He stayed for the 12 p.m. Mass. Afterwards, he went into St. Patrick's gift shop. A book caught his eye — Vinny's 7 Secrets of the Eucharist (Mercy Song Ignatius, 2006), which, with citations from St. Faustina's Diary, gives a greater understanding of the mystery of the Eucharist. Fred also purchased a St. Michael's scapular.

In an interview with thedivinemercy.org this week, Fred explained what happened next:

"I got into a cab and went to the airport," he said. "My flight was delayed about 15 minutes, so I sat there and started reading Vinny's book. I was really taken by it. I boarded the plane and continued to read. Just as we were rolling out for takeoff, I put the book away and closed my eyes and began to reflect on what I had been reading. Then, I heard the impact, then the explosion, and the plane shook violently. I was sitting in seat 16A, which is behind the wing. I could see smoke coming out of the left engine. You could smell the jet fuel."

As soon as Fred, a private pilot, realized the second engine was also not functioning, he became tense, like everyone else around him.

He heard some cries from the cabin.

"Some of us looked at each other," he said. "There was nothing to be said. I knew that the only thing I could do was pray."

A Resolution

These were the other things he knew: This sleek, high performance jet airliner had suddenly and irreversibly become a 73-ton glider sinking fast above one of the nation's most densely populated regions. It would touch down somewhere, somehow, very soon, at a speed of about 120 mph. The chances of survival were almost nil.

He thought about his family, how hard his death would be on them. Indeed, that was the most painful part of the experience for him, his concern for them.

He thought about the very thing all these years that seemed to stand in the way of growing deeper in his faith. It came down to this: trust. He didn't have much. Ever. He had once fancied himself among the titans of commerce. He once trusted that money would bring security and peace of mind. This flight wasn't the thing that taught him otherwise. Rather, it was this past year. The bottom fell out of the economy, and with it, much of Fred's savings of the last 20 years.

By Christmas, the self-described "half-hearted Catholic" knew in his heart the only security in the world is the security found in God, which led to his New Year's resolution; which led to him praying the chaplet in a hotel room; which led him to buy Vinny's book; which led him to close his eyes in seat 16A, his trajectory heavenward, and reflect upon how God is real and He loves us and that He wants us to turn to Him in trust.

Which is exactly what Fred did when he suddenly realized it was the Hour of Great Mercy and he would probably be dead in a matter of seconds. He trusted, truly, for the first time.

All these fragments of thought seemed to piece themselves into place. The plane was going down, yet everything was making sense. He admits he was in shock. But he also felt at peace, a deep peace. God had allowed him to find the Divine Mercy booklet in his briefcase. God had steered him to Vinny's book. God did all this, he thought, to prepare him for death.

He hunched over in his seat to brace for impact. He prayed for God's mercy. Then he prayed two Hail Marys and one Our Father. He made it halfway though a prayer to St. Michael, the archangel, when the plane hit the water, came to a stop, and bobbed up and down like a toy in a kiddy pool.

'True Peace'

"Under the most precarious situations I could ever imagine," says Fred, "God taught me what true peace is all about — that it's found in accepting God's will. That we must try our best in this life, but not sweat the small stuff, and hand control over to God."

One more thing to mention. A couple weeks before the flight, Fred had prayed the Rosary for the first time in years. He had recently learned of the 15 promises that, as legend has it, the Virgin Mary made to St. Dominic and Blessed Alan to all who pray the Rosary with a faithful heart. Fred remembers thinking at the time, "Are those promises real?" He feels he recently received his answer.

"I still have my boarding pass from the flight," Fred said this week, "and I couldn't help but to notice all the 15s associated with the flight. We left on Jan. 15, from gate 15. It was Flight 1549, with 155 passengers. Also, it took off during the 15th hour, by military time, which is what the world of aviation uses. I smiled when it hit me later. There was my answer right there."

He's vowed to embrace the Eucharist, thanks to Vinny; the Rosary, thanks to all those 15s; and the Chaplet of Divine Mercy, thanks to that booklet.

God was doing more than preparing him for death: God was preparing him for life.

SOMEONE PUT U.S. IN A PICKLE BARREL!

Joe was walking down the street, when who did he see walking toward him, but Good Old Uncle Sam with nothing on but a big pickle barrel held up by a pair of straps!

“UNCLE SAM!” cried Joe, “What in Sam Hill happened to you?”

He pointed up the hill toward a white house. There were a group of guys meeting in front of the house. “That O’bummer feller up there tricked me out of my clothes and took over my house, that white house up there.”

“You don’t say. How’d ‘e manage that?”

“Well, I can’t rightly figure it. I already had my suspicions. All’s I know is he came at me with a whole bunch of words and had me sign something. He was telling me I had to save all the people with no clothes and no house and before I knew it, my wallet was cleaned out and my clothes and my house were snatched up from right under my hook-ed nose. It’s the durndest thing. He keeps talking about a ‘stimulus’. Well, I don’t want the Liberty kids overstimulated.”

“And, Uncle Sam, who are all those strange people milling around up there with him?”

“Why, they popped up straight out of the woodwork, or so it seems. I had never seen hide nor hair of them until after all these shenanigans were done. From what I hear, a good number of them are tax cheats and scalliwags.”

“Who is that squirrelly guy using all that bad language?”

“Well, I heard them calling him ‘Bloggerovitch’ or some such thing. Maybe he’s a Russian guy from the World Web. All’s I know is he’s up to no good.  There’s the police coming for him now.

“Look at guy with the big glasses,  Sam. ‘Al Frankman’ I think he’s called. He don’t look ‘frank’ to me. Someone said he was stealing notes, I think. Yeah, they sure are an unsavory looking gang.”

“Sure ‘nough, but it worries me more that they look like the gang that can’t shoot straight. There’s some mean hombres out there and these small-timers won’t be able to charm, cheat and ‘change’ their way past them like they did nice old Uncle Sam. They’ll be looking down the wrong end of a gun barrel and then what’s gonna happen to my kids?”

“And what’s gonna happen to you, Sam?? You’re in a real pickle.....barrel, that is…..”

Just then the Liberty Kids came rushing down the street.

“UNCLE SAM! UNCLE SAM!” they screamed, “What happened?!”

“Hi, kids! I dun been hoodwinked.”

“Oh, no! What are you going to do now?”

“Well, kids, this isn’t the first time I’ve had the wool pulled over my eyes and it probably won’t be the last.”

“That’s sure right, Uncle Sam, they sure have and they sure will!”

“But has anything ever stopped me afore?”

“No, Uncle Sam!”

“And nothin’s gonna stop me now, nither. Slow and steady wins the race and I’ll ‘ventually take care of these rapscallions just like I dun all those others. You children, remember?”

“We sure do, Uncle Sam!”

“So, don’t you worry ‘bout me! All’s I need right now are some proper duds. This loaner barrel is just a trifle splintery and nippy for your Uncle. You kids are the ones that can always dress me up in proper Fourth of July red, white and blue stripey clothes.”

“We’ll take care of you, Uncle Sam!”

“Well, I know you will and I’m right thankful to you. When someone else gives me a dressing down, you all will be dressing me UP! And they’ll be OVER a barrel themselves soon enough. And once I get me a shirt I’ll be rolling up my sleeves and getting to WORK!!”