Dear Diary: This is crazy. This is crazy. This is crazy.

EDITOR'S NOTE: Here's another in the occasional series of dispatches recorded some years ago from the front lines of Catholic radio -- Pope FM.

* * *

TUESDAY, JAN. 22, 2002

Dear Diary,


Well, Doug liked the Pope FM promo I E-mailed him. Says it's further proof still that I've found my calling in radio.

Is it?

Frankly, I wonder how long I'll be able to do it . . . radio, I mean. Been seriously worn down and frustrated by the lack of resources at Pope FM and the extreme reluctance of my boss to spend money even on absolute essentials.

Mary, my boss, also has this highly annoying habit of blaming EVERYTHING that goes wrong on Satan, even when it's pretty obvious that there are many other possible explanations. Great way to avoid responsibility for one's own decisions, eh?

When you work with crappy old equipment, s*** tends to happen.

Sad to say, though, that I used to buy into that kind of thing. But to be fair, it's the peculiar culture at the heart of Pope FM that's the problem, not just Mary.

OK, Diary, here's the deal: EVERYONE constantly refers to everything that screws up as being a case of Satan being after us.

I was starting to fall into that a year or so ago until, oddly enough, a visiting priest on Total Catholic Radio Network's daily Mass provided me with a real sanity check on that score. He said, basically, not everything that goes wrong is the work of the Devil, and even if it is: a) You can't live life looking over your shoulder for Beelzebub, and b) don't give Satan the satisfaction of acknowledging his evil work.

Made eminent sense to me. Now I save the blame-Satan talk only for the most blatant cases for which any other explanation is difficult to concoct. Not so everyone else at the station. It drives me nuts.

I've already mentioned the story about a technical screw-up during our Pledge-a-Thon last month. Mary was having major trouble getting the phone patched through to the on-air feed. I asked her whether she'd done A, B and C. Yes, yes, she said.

I walked into the production room to find her saying, "Be gone, Satan!" I then looked at the control board for two seconds, punched a button, and the phone line was patched through. She hadn't done what she said she'd done.

And I've also told you about how Mary constantly is saying she can't wait to have Jesus on the premises (our forthcoming Eucharistic chapel) so Satan will leave us alone. (Did Satan leave Jesus Himself alone when He actually walked the earth? Not according to my Bible. As the Lord may have said at some point, "Oy veh!")

Also, there seems to me to be constant talk about the Holy Spirit -- as in, the Holy Spirit revealed this to me at adoration . . . the Holy Spirit will do this, and the Holy Spirit is up to that . . . if the Spirit moves you to etc., etc. That strikes me as leaning waaaaaaay toward the charismatic . . . not that we ought to discount the Spirit at all as Catholics, it just seems to me to be a disproportionate focus on the Holy Spirit.

Finally, we seem to have a big emphasis on "spiritual works of mercy" but every time I've proposed doing some corporal works of mercy -- most recently, contributing to 9/11 relief -- I have been dismissed out of hand. That would be a departure from our mission, I've been told.

Funny, I didn't know there was some sort of huge dichotomy when it comes to works of mercy.

Oh . . . about Father Jonathan Flava. He and J.T. Good were the speakers at last weekend's "Holy Glow" conference. Father Flava, a Benedictan evangelist, expounded on how we ought not think, that our thinking gets in the way of the Holy Spirit acting. (Our conference was a combined thing with the local charismatic Catholics . . . Flava was "their" guy.)

Folks went gaga over him. I was going "Huh?"

He also was fairly apocalyptic (real Catho-tabloid stuff), and boasted that he hadn't read more than five books in however many years -- the Spirit reveals to him everything he needs to know. It sounded to me too damn much like Magisterial snake-handling.

Really, Diary, I'm at a bit of a loss trying to make sense of all this and where I fit into "orthodox" Catholicism if this is the direction it's headed.

AND NOW, the archbishop (citing the new media guidelines passed by the USCCB) is demanding effective power of prior restraint on our program content. He wants to have approval on EVERYONE on Pope FM who "teaches the faith," whatever that stunningly ambiguous phrase might mean.

My objections to my boss about prior restraint was met by utter platitudes about "we must be obedient." And my concerns about the possibility for arbitrary dictates and gross abuse by a bishop were met by "that would help in our sanctification."

When my idea of evangelization and good radio is spots like the one I sent Doug, assuredly it's only a matter of time before I get a shiv in the back and my cold, lifeless body is sacrificed upon the altar of the chancery gods.

I swear to God, Diary, I've become Dr. Tom More and my life a Walker Percy novel.

Pass the lapsometer.

Dear Diary: The Bilderberger conspiracy

EDITOR'S NOTE: Revolution 21's Blog for the People continues an occasional series of dispatches recorded some years ago in the trenches of Catholic radio. The names aren't real, nor are the places, but the stories are -- and it's a snapshot picture of what happens when "Their zeal consumes them" meets "Sinners sacrifice for the institution, not vice versa."

In other words, there has to be a better way.

FRIDAY, MARCH 15, 2002

Dear Diary,

You won't believe this. Actually, you will, being my diary and all. But I digress . . . .

The other day, the development guy -- fresh back from taking a bunch of big donors (and potential big donors) on a "pilgrimage" down to Total Catholic Radio Network's headquarters and shrine -- stopped in the production room to tell me about the trip. Particularly about this "great" presentation "Father Rafe" gave them.

You know, "standard" Catholic stuff about the move toward one-world government through history. He gave me an outline Father had put together on the subject, replete with an accounting of the conspiratorial machinations of the Bilderbergers and Masons and Trilateral Commission. (I don't know how the United Nations and black helicopters got left out, but there you go.)

The thought occurred to me that this never got mentioned in my religious instruction, or in the Catechism, or in any conciliar documents, or in most Catholic academic and social discourse . . . guess it's just special knowledge you get from Total Catholic Radio Network insiders. Anyway, he said it's interesting reading and that I ought to look it over in my spare time.

Well, I did. Enough to recognize standard wackadoodle John Birch Society boilerplate when I see it.

So, today the development guy comes back to see what I thought of Father Rafe's handiwork. Well, say I, it looks to me to be your standard Bircher conspiracy theorizing.

"But Father Rafe has been researching this for 50 years," he says.

"So have the Birchers," I reply.

What the hell kind of wacko Catholic world do I find myself in the middle of here? And THIS is the stripe of folk -- in general, I assume -- who have a hold of the reins of "orthodox" Catholic media in this country?

I keep telling my wife and close friends about the strange things going on in this peculiar world I inhabit, but no one will believe exactly how wacky it really is. They think I'm putting the worst interpretation on it. That is certainly possible, but the more and more I see, frankly, the less and less probable that becomes.

It absolutely appears that I have to get out of here, but not until I have another gig. While I am here, though, I am going to do whatever I can to counteract this crap, but I feel that I'm becoming more and more marginalized every day.

I know God must have some purpose in this but, thus far, He hasn't clued me in on what it is.

Dear Diary: The Lord is my . . . WHAT?!?

EDITOR'S NOTE: Revolution 21's Blog for the People continues an occasional series of dispatches recorded some years ago in the trenches of Catholic radio . . . Pope FM, if you will. The names aren't real, nor are the places, but the stories are -- and it's a snapshot picture of what happens when "Their zeal consumes them" meets "Sinners sacrifice for the institution, not vice versa."

In other words, there has to be a better way.

WEDNESDAY, OCT. 9, 2002

Dear Diary,


I think, someday, this diary may turn into a book. The only roadblock to my turning the continuing saga of Pope FM into the next great American comedic novel is that A Confederacy of Dunces already has been written.

And, either fortuitously or tragically, I seem to have wandered into the real-life sequel, which is centered upon an exceedingly bizarre little Catholic radio station. Picture Pope FM this way: Hunter S. Thompson finds Jesus, joins the Catholic Church, buys WKRP and turns it into a religious station.

But he never kicks the pills and the booze.

This is the kind of surreal, whacked-out chaos that swirls about me, here in the great Midwest, as I huddle in my broken-down production room in a ramshackle little radio station. Apart from Jesus Christ, my salvation is the limoncello our secretary keeps in the break-room freezer.

If we were a Baptist radio station, I'd be sooooo screwed right now. . . .

WELL, IT'S BEEN an eventful couple of weeks since my last entry. Work has gotten so bizarre as to defy description.

"The Triumvirate" has entered into an unbreakable feedback loop, and Manic Don -- the program director, as well as the catalyst for the troika -- has just released an organizational plan in which all roads lead to himself. In the staff meeting where all this was unveiled, I found that, as production director, I don't even have the power to decide what I'm working on during any given day.

I told them not to insult me by letting me keep a meaningless title if I have that little control over what I do. The past two weeks, I have surprised even myself with the level of bluntness I've developed.

Don and the development guy kept saying that "station business" (i.e. underwriting and promos) had to take precedence over creating programming during business hours. I told them that evangelization was the station's business, and that Pope FM was not a commercial enterprise.

As was the case with Jimmy Swaggart, I am becoming increasingly and utterly convinced it's all about money, and it's all about us . . . not suffering souls in need of Jesus.

I swear to you, Catholics are the craziest bastards this side of the West Bank (of the Jordan, not the Mississippi).

THERE'S GOING TO BE a spectacular meltdown and/or explosion. I just can't decide whether I'm being called to view it from close up -- and perhaps be around to help pick up the pieces if I don't go up in the mushroom cloud -- or to view it from a safe distance.

Meanwhile, I had a voice mail the other day from a Baptist guy wanting to talk to a priest about possibly converting -- even though his wife is violently opposed to the Catholic Church. I forwarded his info to our secretary, asked about procedures for referrals and made a couple of suggestions about priests to put him in touch with.

Well, tonight after hours, I pick up the phone . . . and it's the same guy, asking about good reference books.

"You're the guy who left the voice mail, right?" I asked. He said that he was.

Had anyone from the station put him in contact with a priest or someone else?

No.

So I suggested Father Hardon's Pocket Catechism as beginning reading, and I gave him the name and phone number of the priest who confirmed my wife and me. I also suggested that he just patiently answer his wife's questions or objections, but not to argue with her about it.

I figure God really wants this guy to be Catholic. Sometimes I wonder why, but that's not my call. Fortunately.

On another front, Manic Don of the Holy Humvee tried to dump building playback logs for the automation program on my already overloaded plate. Trouble is, that's not my yob, man. Not in my job description.

I told him my plate already was full and that automation programming wasn't in my job description but was in his. By the end of the day, I was handed a new job description.

Guess what it included?

It also included reclassifying me as "occupational/non-exempt" from "professional/ exempt." When I pointed that out to Don and Ken, the general manager, (in writing, for documentation purposes) and mentioned "overtime" (which would substantially increase my salary), let's just say an abrupt correction was made.

THE IMPROBABLE, unbelievable saga of My Life at Pope FM just keeps getting better and better. This translates to more and more incredible . . . in the sense of "You won't believe this s***!"

Once again, I remind myself -- and the world -- that, yes, it really happened. Likewise, I note that I'm about to be guilty of "burying the lede," but what am I gonna do? It's a diary, Diary.

Today at Levy Pants -- if I inhabit the sequel to A Confederacy of Dunces, this must be the Levy Pants factory -- I was tasked to clean up a Pope FM Update done by Don and Ken. The copy, written by . . . oh, you know who the hell wrote it, had the general manager introducing the Messiah -- um, Don -- as "part mad scientist, part creative genius and just plain sinner like the rest of us."

It's all very frat boy, you know. Well, that is if frat boys went around spouting phrases like "just plain sinner like the rest of us."

I could have tried -- futilely -- to naysay against such juvenile things going over the air. But what's the fun in that? I prefer to imagine certain board members hearing that through the static on their FM radios.

And in a Pledge-a-Thon promo I just finished tonight for the Lord of the Hummer, he took a "Star Wars" tack on fund raising. I looked and looked and looked for the voiceover for one part of the spot, but it wasn't there, so I just voiced the part myself.

I did, however, do some editing. Can you imagine how it might sound, through the static of our weak signal, if I had read the line as written, which began "The Lord is our Master Vader . . . ."

Listen to that in your mind's ear. Imagine someone paying scant attention to our staticky broadcast.

"The Lord is our Master Vader . . . ."

I CAN SEE IT NOW. I drop dead, and somehow -- probably through a clerical error -- I end up in Heaven Itself, right in the middle of the Beatific Vision, and there He is.

Jesus Christ.

Right there in front of me.

Coming out of an adult bookstore.

I . . . don't . . . think . . . so.

But that's the less-than-beatific vision our listeners came thiiiiiis close to having as they listened to Pope FM over their morning bowl of Froot Loops.

Something tells me that the Froot Loops aren't just in our listeners' cereal bowls.

Dear Diary: Humvees for Jesus

EDITOR'S NOTE: Revolution 21's Blog for the People continues an occasional series of dispatches recorded some years ago in the trenches of Catholic radio . . . Pope FM, if you will. The names aren't real, nor are the places, but the stories are -- and it's a snapshot picture of what happens when "Their zeal consumes them" meets "Sinners sacrifice for the institution, not vice versa."

In other words, there has to be a better way.

MONDAY, SEPT. 23, 2002

Dear Diary,


I write with some trepidation about what posterity will think of this missive. For what I will think of this missive in future years.

I fear people might read this and think me delusional -- that something as bat-s*** crazy as what I'm about to put to figurative "paper" couldn't have happened, that I made it all up. Sometimes, I fear that I'll think the same thing in five or 10 years.

Note to posterity (and to my future self): You can't make this s*** up. You just can't.

Well, it's been a while since I've written, and things have changed quite a bit around Pope FM. Mary, our general manager, is gone to tackle running a chain of Catholic radio stations. Ken is running the show now, and he's going great guns to "corporatize" the place.

His mantra seems to be "How can we do some business here?" Funny, I didn't know non-profit Catholic radio -- or Catholic evangelization -- was "bidness." Silly me.

Too, we have a new program director. Actually, this is a new position. Before, Mary did the program-director thing as part of her general-manager duties, and I reported to her. Now I have an extremely manic -- and extremely odd -- middle manager to brighten my work experience.

This is gonna be a rough ride.

HERE, DEAR DIARY, is a vignette that (I think) illustrates the big picture. And you'll see the genesis of my "rough ride" assessment.

First, the new guy, Don, is driving everybody nuts -- except for the fast clique formed by him, the general manager and the development director. They all have five kids (the new guy's fifth is on the way), they're all around my age, they're all "Catholic and Damned Proud of It" (for lack of a better term) types, etc.

All I can say briefly is the direction of the station has turned 180 degrees in the blink of an eye. There has been wrenching change in the whole culture of the station in a week . . . manic would be an apt description, I think. Manic, just like (as I noted earlier) Don.

I mean, I am the voice of restraint at the place now. Don has about five years of pent-up ideas he's unleashing all at once and expecting to implement by the end of the year. With very limited resources to accomplish any of it . . . even after the technical expansion is complete.

Honestly, I desperately want to give the station a contemporary, non-dyspeptic sound. I desperately want to reach out to young people. But in such a short time, you can only do what you can do with the resources you have. And you have to be deliberate in what you're doing.

BUYING A HUMVEE, I don't think, can be described as exercising due deliberation.

That's right, ladies and germs, Don wants to get someone to donate the scratch for a Humvee -- the Pope FM Humvee -- which we then would have painted like the Vatican flag to play off the theme "The Church Militant."

I am the only convert left on the staff, and I can't convince these zealots how badly that might piss off people who have no clue what the Church Militant is. So much so that we wouldn't have the opportunity to explain it (and so much so that it might not make a difference when you do).

And then we will face the reaction of the Protestants. ;-) As a friend comments about such things, "Their zeal consumes them."

APART FROM the PR-nightmare possibilities, I can think of a lot neater things $35,000 could buy instead of a used Hummer.

On the up side, Don values creativity, allegedly likes Holy Spirit Rock and seems to have the capability of being collaborative. On the down side, I picked the wrong week to stop doing crystal meth.

Friday, the intern who produces Keys to the Kingdom came into our temporary production room, looking concerned and asking how I was. I told her I picked the wrong week to stop smoking crack.

She then, unprompted, blurts out "How can you STAND it!"

Metaphysically, I have NO IDEA what is going on here. All I can figure out is that God has some sort of Rube Goldberg plan in all this, which He is laughing Himself silly watching.

I'll submit here a memo I sent to the entire Pope FM staff right after Don laid the whole Humvees for Jesus thing on us. I am sure I am now looked upon in that peculiar way the manic-depressive looks at the Normal Affect Population when he's bouncing off the walls in a fit of giddy delirium.

That's right, I'm a party-pooper who Just Can't See. In the peculiar world of Catholic radio, I'm sure that makes me a Bad Catholic as well.

Anyway, here's the memo:

Dear all,

Before we go too far down the promotional and imaging road, perhaps we need to stop and put on Protestant or average-Joe Catholic glasses.

As this whole clerical sexual-abuse mess drags on and (probably) gets worse, it will have a tremendous impact on how Catholics evangelize and, indeed, relate to the larger society.

For example, I would never, in this climate, use “The Church Militant” as a promotional scheme or even subtext. I think many not-so-well catechized Catholics immediately would be turned off by the phrase, having misunderstood the use of the word “militant.” And Protestants would feel threatened . . . and not without justification. Trust me, a convert, on this.

Lord knows the station needs to be pepped up. Lord knows we need to vastly expand our programming efforts toward teen-agers and young adults. And Lord knows Catholic media needs to learn to relate to average people in compelling and effective ways.

But we have to realize that we are trying to evangelize for a Church that has some grave problems right now – gravely sinful problems at the highest levels in some cases. We are sinners, our priests are sinners, and some of our bishops are major-league sinners. It’s an unpleasant fact, but it IS a fact. And it is not without precedent in Catholic history, although that DOES NOT make it any easier to live through or cope with right now.

In this light, I think what we need to do is run the Humvee and “Church Militant” into a tree and walk forward into the greater community in humility, and in our humanity, proclaiming the Christ “who saved a wretch like me.”

If we can come up with the $35,000 or so that would buy a used Hummer, I would suggest buying a more cost-effective vehicle and using the excess to begin endowing efforts toward helping the underprivileged in town. At any rate, the whole issue is a serious discussion the PR committee and board needs to have. At least that’s my two cents’ worth.

A LOT OF GOOD that did.

I wandered out to the reception desk this afternoon, only to find a fishbowl on the counter with some change in it. In front of the fishbowl was Don's yellow-and-white model Hummer.

On the fishbowl is a sign: "Help the Humvee!"

I asked our secretary what the deal was. She got this bemused look, and said "Don told me to put this up here."

I hung my head.

Did I mention that he's "blown up" three computers -- crappy ones, yes, but three computers nonetheless -- trying to make them do God knows what? And I was at work until 12:30 a.m. Wednesday desperately trying to fix the WaveStation automation, which suffered a Challenger-scale "major malfunction." Well, at least short of literally exploding.

Don was nowhere to be found.

And now the station organizational chart officially has all roads leading to the program director. Except for the stuff he doesn't like to do. In the staff meeting where that loo-loo was unveiled, I reached new pinnacles of bluntness that I did not know I was capable of.

I picked the wrong week to quit chasing fistfuls of downers with bourbon.

Why are Catholics so bat-s*** crazy?

NOTE TO MY FUTURE SELF: No, you didn't make this up. It happened. It's completely whack, but it happened. I don't know how this Pope FM thing will shake out, but I hope you make it through all right.

Tell me, are you still Catholic?

Dear Diary: Dear Rage Against the Machine . . .

EDITOR'S NOTE: Here's another in the occasional series of dispatches from the front lines of Catholic radio -- Pope FM.

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TUESDAY, OCT. 30, 2001

Dear Diary,


I decided it would be unconscionable for me to bitch about the Keys to the Kingdom kids and not respond myself to the guy who E-mailed the show. So I did.

Here's the letter. I'm going to bed. It's late.

-- Me

* * *

Dear Rage Against the Machine,


Thanks for your question to Keys to the Kingdom last evening. I thought it was a valid one, and it cuts to the very heart of Christianity. As a Pope FM staffer, I was in the control room for the show, and I thought that maybe the panelists gave answers that were a little more complicated, peripheral and long-winded than they needed to be.

Then again, I've got a few years on the kids, have been through the School of
Hard Knocks and used to be in the newspaper business. I have a lot of years of experience at chiseling away bulls*** and cutting to the chase.

Bottom line: What has God done for me lately? The same thing He's done for you. Jesus Christ -- God come to earth, the second person of the Trinity -- has allowed himself to be insulted, tortured, beaten and hanged on a cross until He was dead. All this in order to be a perfect sacrifice to atone for all our sins, yours and mine (and I've committed some doozies in my life), so that we don't have to get what perfect
justice requires we have coming.

God, the Creator of the universe in the person of Jesus Christ, allowed Himself to be killed by His own creation because He was the only sacrifice good enough to make up for every s***, crappy, unspeakably awful thing that humanity had done, is doing or ever will do. And, as Catholics, we believe that one-time, perfect act of perfect love is brought into our presence, through time and space, at every Mass during the consecration. In that way, yes, giving His very life at Calvary is something Jesus has done for you lately.

Even now, it's hard for me to fathom that. My old man never cut me a bit of slack -- and nothing I ever did was good enough for him -- so I still have a hard time understanding that the Creator of the universe loved me so much he died so I might have everlasting life. He died for me. He rose again on the third day in a final conquest of death. And He waits for all the prodigal sons and daughters to come home, when He will wipe the slate clean.

Even so, we still suffer on this earth. The world still suffers from the effects of sin, and we suffer also. We have free will -- God loves us too much to make us mindless robots -- and that means we have the freedom to do what is wrong as well as what is right.

But that is here. Now. Because Christ died to atone for our sins, if we accept that great gift, the suffering one day will end for us and we will have eternal joy in the presence of our Savior.

And in that here-and-now suffering, God will grant us comfort and peace. He's the Father, brother and friend who doesn't care what you are but instead loves you BECAUSE you are. He's the one person who knows the most awful thing you've ever done and loves you despite it all.

So you're pissed off at God. Well, I've been pissed at God, too. So, tell God EXACTLY how pissed off you are. Tell Him you don't think he's done jack s*** for you. Ask Him what He has to say about that.

He's God. I think He can take it.

Then, listen to see exactly what He has to say about it.

You hate God. God loves you. I think you're getting the better end of the deal, frankly.

Listen, I don't know what parish you live in or even whether you're Catholic. But you're certainly welcome to come to our youth group at St. Matthew's most Sunday nights at 6:30. Our youth minister is a great guy.

And there's more than a few of us (alleged) adult volunteers who've been there, done that, got the T-shirt and by the grace of God lived to tell about it.

Just don't end up like my old man. He died of brain cancer in May at age 80, and he died a bitter and scared man. I still hear him on his death bed crying out -- just out of the blue -- "Lord have mercy." But I don't know that he really believed the Lord would have mercy. In other words, I fear he died without hope.

I'm not sure you fully understand what an awful thing that is. It haunts me.

In your heart of hearts, is that how you want to end up? You don't have to, you know.


God bless,

Me

Dear Diary: I inhabit M*A*S*H . . . as told to O'Connor . . . by Fellini

EDITOR'S NOTE: Revolution 21's Blog for the People continues an occasional series of dispatches recorded some years ago in the trenches of Catholic radio. The names aren't real, nor are the places, but the stories are -- and it's a snapshot picture of what happens when "Their zeal consumes them" meets "Sinners sacrifice for the institution, not vice versa."

In other words, there has to be a better way.

WEDNESDAY, NOV. 6, 2002

Dear Diary,

Sometimes I think I inhabit a Midwestern sequel to A Confederacy of Dunces. Other times, I think it's Walker Percy's Love in the Ruins.

Today, I'm pretty sure I inhabit a revival of M*A*S*H. I am Hawkeye Pierce, and my new program director at Pope FM is a fat Frank Burns.

Manic Don is 35, ex-Coast Guard and has never gotten over it. He doesn't know jack excrement about radio but tries to act like he's God's gift to the airwaves.

He writes everything in military lingo, puts all times on the 24-hour clock, asks everyone whether everything's "5-by-5," and organizes (to use the term loosely) a tiny station staff like it's the Pacific Command.

He also specializes in trying to downplay his own glaring failures by trying to make others look worse.

And today he ordered me to reduce the time I spend on production work by 75 percent. All the while he desperately tries to foist the more tedious and mundane parts of his job description off on others (read: "me") . . . by fiat.

I called him on that once, in a very Southern manner (despite the fact that he has 100 pounds on me). Within two days, I got a new job description allowing him to do just that.

Two words: Captain Queeg. Furthermore, I refuse to tell the SOB what I did with his @#$!* strawberries.

I've been trying to hold on until he crashes and burns, but I don't know whether that will be possible. OK, Pope FM is M*A*S*H as written by Flannery O'Connor based on a storyline by Fellini.

I keep trying to remember that I once loved my job, and that it was supposed to be about Jesus. It sure as hell doesn't look like Jesus now. Egos, money and the general dysfunction in every aspect of Catholic life today have seen to that.

I'm damned good at what I do. Damned good. I thought I had found my calling in Catholic radio.

I guess I was wrong. Again.

-- Hawkeye Pierce

Dear Diary: Quo vadis, Domine?

EDITOR'S NOTE: Revolution 21's Blog for the People continues an occasional series of dispatches recorded some years ago in the trenches of Catholic radio. The names aren't real, nor are the places, but the stories are -- and it's a snapshot picture of what happens when "Their zeal consumes them" meets "Sinners sacrifice for the institution, not vice versa."

In other words, there has to be a better way.

TUESDAY, NOV. 12, 2002

Dear Diary,

The other week in youth group, a couple of Catholic-school girls (I think they were Catholic-school lobotomized) were expressing grave doubts about the Real Presence. The next thing I knew, I was tracing the prefigurement of the Paschal sacrifice -- and the logic of consuming that sacrifice in a meal -- from the Last Supper to John 6:56 and all the way through the Old Testament from the Passover back to Abraham, Isaac and the ram caught in the brush.

And then I told one of the girls, "Don't take my word for it. Look it up for yourself."

Funny thing is, I knew all that was in my brain already, but I never really systematically looked at the Eucharist past the prefigurement in the Passover. Never.

I think the message was meant for me more than the unbelieving teen-ager: "You're not leaving the Catholic Church. You damn well can't leave the church."

Still . . . the lunacy just doesn't let up. In the Catholic Church or at Pope FM -- where for the first time I'm starting to fear a catastrophic spiral into oblivion. And feel that, no matter how much I might like to see the SOB crash and burn, I have to find a way to gently steer Manic Don away from a self-immolation that could incinerate EVERYTHING and everyone.

THE PROBLEM at Pope FM is pride and delusions of grandeur -- that the only way to serve the Lord and evangelize, evangelize, evangelize the universe into becoming the "right" kind of Catholics is to become some sort of corporate, Papist media empire of the upper Midwest. Folks are getting big heads, and the medium is becoming the message.

Unfortunately, actually taking care of business and simply being present to suffering souls is so mundane. No, what we want is a kind of Hollywood Catholicism, where it's so much more important to look good than be good. The rub, however, is that you live in a radio Hooterville, the phone is at the top of a utility pole and the carpenter who built your new studios is a woman named Ralph.

And it's all starting to fall apart.

Somehow, I'm getting past some of my anger at the whole mess and starting to feel like I just can't walk away from the cross here. Kind of a personal "Quo vadis, Domine?" moment.

OH, DID I mention our contractor did such a lousy job -- and that warnings from our engineers were so completely ignored -- that our new studios are anything but soundproof? In radio, that's a VERY bad thing. They'll be next to useless, and the work of the station will be significantly crippled.

All for the low, low cost of $100 grand or so. Perfect.

Dear Diary: It gets worser and worser

EDITOR'S NOTE: Here's another in the occasional series of dispatches recorded some years ago from the front lines of Catholic radio -- Pope FM.

* * *

TUESDAY, FEB. 26, 2002

Dear Diary,


The archdiocese is trying to pull a fast one.

Bob Kolfrier may have been "ordered" to stay away from kids (wink, wink, nudge, nudge) but he didn't. He was involved with the "Spirit Fire" youth group connected to Pope FM this whole time. He was an occasional guest priest on Keys to the Kingdom -- and we know that because of the bishops' document on Catholic media, HE HAD TO BE APPROVED BY THE ARCHBISHOP.

I know for a fact this was the case. The producer told me there were only so many priests approved to appear on that show.

This is total and complete bulls***.

THIS IS THE BUNCH OF LIES being fed to the newspaper:

Eight months before authorities started investigating a priest for allegedly
viewing child pornography, the Catholic Church removed him from his teaching
duties and limited his contact with children, according to police documents.

The Rev. Bob Kolfrier told his archbishop in February 2001 that he
viewed child pornography as many as four times a week, for several hours each
time, according to a search warrant filed Monday in Madis County.

Kolfrier was removed from his teaching position at Carson Catholic High
School and was ordered to abstain from contact with children outside of worship
services, documents state.

Last June, Kolfrier transferred to St. Theresa Catholic Church in Southtown as part of a regular rotation.

AFTER READING TODAY'S ARTICLE and seeing that what it stated was not the truth, the missus and I knew what conscience demanded that we do.

We called up one of the reporters on the story, and told her that Father Bob had been involved with Keys to the Kingdom, the Spirit Fire youth group and had gone on bus trips to "Steubenville of the Rockies." We also told her the chancery HAD to have known he was involved with Keys to the Kingdom because every priest on that show was approved by the archbishop or Father Mark Leinstell, the chancellor.

We also gave her the name of the bishops' document so she could look it up on the Web.

I wouldn't bet money that I won't be fired. Damn these people. Damn them all.

Dear Diary: My pervs-in-the-Church nightmare

EDITOR'S NOTE: Here's another in the occasional series of dispatches recorded some years ago from the front lines of Catholic radio -- Pope FM.

* * *

MONDAY, FEB. 25, 2002

Dear diary,


From the newspaper:

A priest at St. Theresa Catholic Church in Southtown told an investigator that he viewed child pornography on the Internet as part of research he had been conducting since he was a seminary student.

Details of the investigation were included in a search warrant filed Monday in Madis County District Court. The investigation is taking place in Carson, where the Rev. Bob Kolfrier formerly served at Word Incarnate-St. Joan parish.

No charges have been filed against Kolfrier, and the investigation is continuing.

The search warrant gave these details of the investigation:

Church officials learned in January 2001 that two young men had seen Internet addresses for child porn Web sites on Kolfrier's computer in the church office.

The young men told a priest at another church, who notified the Word Incarnate-St. Joan pastor.

A meeting involving Archbishop Felton Burris, the Rev. Mark Leinstell, chancellor of the archdiocese, the pastor and Kolfrier was held Feb. 1, 2001.

Kolfrier was removed from his teaching position.

Kolfrier later transferred to St. Theresa in Southtown during the regular rotation period in summer 2001.

Police learned of the allegations in October 2001.

Sgt. Michael Bauer of the Carson police interviewed Kolfrier in his Southtown office Wednesday. According to the search warrant, Kolfrier told Bauer that he viewed child pornography on his computer three or four times a week for two or three hours at a time over three years. He said he was conducting research on child pornography. He also said he used a computer program to remove the Web site addresses from his computer.

Kolfrier was not at Masses this weekend and will not be working in the parish until the investigation is concluded, Leinstell said.

One reason for Kolfrier's absence, Leinstell said, is so television and newspaper reporters "won't run him down."

Leinstell said the archdiocese will cooperate with the investigation.

WHO THE !@#$ does Father Bob think he's fooling . . . other than, perhaps, himself? And note that the archdiocese knew about this for more than a year, but kept him in parish ministry. AND WORKING WITH THE KIDS ON KEYS TO THE KINGDOM !!!!!!!!

Ths is outrageous. Here at Pope FM, my boss is swimming down the River of Denial. She buys the research line, though she says it was "incredibly stupid." A quote from her: "I've known Father Bob since he was in high school, and there's no way he has any interest in child pornography."

One of the kids involved with Keys to the Kingdom is like a daughter to Mrs. Favog and me. She's devastated, more or less. She kept telling her mom, "But he's a great guy!"

Furthermore, Mary -- my boss -- said they would be having a meeting Friday night with the Keys to the Kingdom kids. She, the "spiritual activities director" and Father Fabian Desmond will handle it. I suggested they bring in a counselor specializing in this, from the Catholic rehab facility. I was rebuffed out of hand.

God help us all. Damn these people. Damn them.

Dear Diary: It's no longer academic. It's personal.

EDITOR'S NOTE: Here's another in the occasional series of dispatches recorded some years ago from the front lines of Catholic radio -- Pope FM.

* * *

SUNDAY, FEB. 24, 2002

Dear diary,


So much for Jesus in the tabernacle warding off all the bad s*** from Pope FM. It don't get no badder than this. Southtown is a suburb, pretty much right in the south-central part of town. Fr. Bob Kolfrier is a pretty regular guest on Keys to the Kingdom . . . I know him. Our assistant pastor at St. Matthew's is a good friend of his. He is (was?) supposed to be the priest on Keys to the Kingdom tomorrow night to talk about the Mass.

This from today's newspaper:

Published Sunday

February 24, 2002

Southtown priest under investigation in child-pornography case

A parish priest in Southtown is under investigation by authorities in Madis County in connection with allegations of child pornography.

Madis County Attorney John Nift confirmed the investigation and told the Carson Daily News that two search warrants had been served - at the Carson church where the priest had been assigned until last June as well as at a residence in the Southtown area. Computer equipment was seized in the search, the newspaper said.

Nift said no arrests have been made and the investigation was continuing. He could not be reached Saturday for comment.

The newspaper said the priest, the Rev. Bob Kolfrier, served at Word Incarnate-St. Joan parish in Carson from 1998, when he was ordained, to June 2001, when he became an associate pastor of St. Theresa parish in Southtown.

The Rev. Larry Beidecker, pastor of St. Theresa parish, said Saturday that he had no information on the investigation. He referred all questions to the Rev. Mark Leinstell, chancellor of the archdiocese. Leinstell could not be reached.

I (WE) NEED PRAYERS. If the archdiocese and my boss do not do the right thing tomorrow -- that is, make sure Father Bob (even though legally there is a presumption of innocence) IS NOT on the air and DOES NOT interact with those kids -- I intend to immediately quit my job. In this kind of thing, there is no debate, there is no worrying about the extreme financial hardship you will be leaping into.

There just isn't.

So, Holy Mother of God, pray for my boss to have common sense and for a sense of Pope FM's self-preservation override her propensity toward ultrapiety and circling the wagons. Pray for the archdiocese to do the right thing . . . and quickly. And pray for my actions to be guided by the Holy Spirit and not by intense anger, righteous though it may be.

Dear Diary: Live . . . from the crapper

EDITOR'S NOTE: Revolution 21's Blog for the People continues an occasional series of dispatches recorded some years ago in the trenches of Catholic radio. The names aren't real, nor are the places, but the stories are -- and it's a snapshot picture of what happens when "Their zeal consumes them" meets "Sinners sacrifice for the institution, not vice versa."

In other words, there has to be a better way.

SATURDAY, OCT. 19, 2002

Dear Diary,

Well, the insanity continues apace at Levy Pants, Midwest Division. Pope FM, remember, equals Levy Pants in A Confederacy of Dunces.

Thursday, "The Triumvirate" (Ken, Fred the Development Guy and Manic Don) grudgingly admitted the reality of what I'd been telling them for a month -- our new studios wouldn't be ready for the "Pledge-a-Thon" this coming week. I'll be engineering it from the men's room.

No, really. The crapper. The head. The loo.

The Facilities.

See, right now, we have a cobbled together, temporary control room in what will be the men's room. The commode drain is there, but not the stool itself, or the sink, or the urinal. That would take up too much room, leaving none for the equipment. But the plumbing and the floor drain are all there -- complete with that certain je ne sais quoi . . . the intermittent fragrant hint of sewer gas.

CONTRARY TO THE OPINION of Fred the Development Guy, God did not "expand time."

I plugged a Behringer studio mixer into the borrowed control board we have, just to make it functional enough for me to engineer the Pledge-a-Thon with minimum hassles and give me enough inputs for a line feed from the makeshift interview studio and to run microphone cables to the phone room, which conveniently is just outside the men's room -- uh, CONTROL ROOM -- door.

But to make room for the volunteers and telephones, Manic Man, our fearless program director, had to move out of his temporary digs.

Where would he go? Where would he go?

Well, let's just say I ended up literally begging him and the GM not to move our temporary, jury-rigged and very precarious production room into a still under-construction space so Manic Man could take over the present room for his office . . . right now.

Did I mention all this was less than a week out from the Pledge-a-Thon?

ME, I THINK the Lord is a fan of A Confederacy of Dunces. And, as an added benefit, He is teaching me radical compassion for an intern I used to have little patience with but who was, fairly literally, crying on my shoulder Friday over her mistreatment by the Manic Mad Man of the Midwest. She referred to him as "a male chauvinist pig."

When you hear meek, charismatic-Catholic 25-year-old women use the term "male chauvinist pig," you absolutely KNOW he's probably worse than that, even.

Really, this guy is making a crapload of enemies real fast. And he's starting to make the wrong enemies. Or at least make them for the station.

I don't know what the Lord has in mind for all this, but I know in my heart it involves my stepping up to the plate to try to rally the troops and hold them together to weather the raging storm.


Taking to the factory floor
with a banner made of a . . .
a . . . an (ahem) bedsheet,

Me

Dear Diary: Rope. End. Near.

EDITOR'S NOTE: Here's another in the occasional series of dispatches recorded some years ago from the front lines of Catholic radio -- Pope FM.

MONDAY, OCT. 21, 2002


Dear Diary,

I'm nearing the end of my rope, but I just can't quit without another job. I think divine intervention of some sort is needed . . . if only for my endurance.

I'm short on time, and I have to go to bed soon, being that I have to be at Pope FM by 6:15 or so in the morning for a 13-hour shift (every day for the rest of the week) during the "Pledge-a-Thon." To boot, a nasty chronic ailment has returned with a vengeance after several years' absence (after a several-year off-an-on run).

I JUST SENT the following note to a longtime volunteer -- the 25-year-old intern who was weeping in my office last week:

Susie,

Be prepared. I have absolutely no idea what to expect tomorrow. I came to work today to find everything I had prepared in the present control room/men's room ripped apart with no good explanation, other than the engineers now thought they could get the new control room functioning "enough." Everyone seemed to think I should be happy about this.

They were still frantically working on it when the Missus came to get me after 7 to take me to the doctor. Manic Don still was revising and explaining the "run sheet" for the first day of the Pledge-a-Thon. The other days have yet to be scripted . . . and he is scripting everything to within an inch of its life.

I spent the entire day trying to decide whether to just quit . . . that and praying for enlightenment. But I decided I wouldn't give the Don the satisfaction.

So far, he's been working the other two interns like dogs.

Welcome to the new Pope FM. Don't be sad, and don't be afraid. But do be prepared, and do be resolved. In all the wrong ways, Pope FM is becoming incredibly close to "the real thing" in radio.

Hang in there. . . .

GOD HELP US at Levy Pants, Midwest Division.


-- Me

Dear Diary: Of porn and blue jeans

EDITOR'S NOTE: Here's another in the occasional series of dispatches recorded some years ago from the front lines of Catholic radio -- Pope FM.

* * *

THURSDAY, MARCH 14, 2002

Dear Diary,

Well, now. From today's newspaper: Father Bob Kolfrier didn't actually POSSESS the kiddie porn, his lawyer says in entering a not-guilty plea. Now, if he hadn't been wearing SHOES when he said Mass at the Pope FM chapel Tuesday of last week . . . .

Yes, that's right. Said Mass at our chapel. My boss told me FIVE MINUTES before he showed up to say Mass for some station staff and Spirit Fire adult leaders.

You see, "He has been hurting to say Mass for people, and he's in a state of grace." The chancery approved of the whole thing. But it was kept strictly on the QT so reporters wouldn't "hound him."

I understand compassion for the sinner and redemption. I do. But the recklessness of it all is deeply weird, deeply disturbing and deeply shocking. It just WAS NOT APPROPRIATE. If he absolutely, positively had to say Mass for a congregation, do it at somebody's house. NOT AT THE RADIO STATION.

I got the hell out of there and tried not to see him. But he was there eating pizza with the charismatic Spirit Fire folk when I got back and was still there when I left.

Yes, my boss has compassion for priests into kiddie porn but not for lapsed Catholics who show up for Mass on September 12, 2001. Or for the people at what she described as "the grunge Mass" she ended up attending at St. Mark's last Sunday.

Grunge Mass? Yes, people were mostly wearing blue jeans and were just sooooooo lukewarm, don'tcha know?

Dear Diary: The power of punk

EDITOR'S NOTE: Revolution 21's Blog for the People continues an occasional series of dispatches recorded some years ago in the trenches of Catholic radio . . . Pope FM, if you will. The names aren't real, nor are the places, but the stories are -- and it's a snapshot picture of what happens when "Their zeal consumes them" meets "Sinners sacrifice for the institution, not vice versa."

In other words, there has to be a better way.

SUNDAY, AUG. 25, 2002


Dear Diary,


It had to happen. It hadn't happened in awhile.

I was working on Holy Spirit Rock early this afternoon, pulling some of the music for next Saturday's show, when I hear a knock on the door. Mrs. Favog was due back shortly with our almost-16-year-old friend Ruth, one of the co-hosts of the Pope FM show, and I thought she didn't want to bother with the key or had her hands full with groceries.

So I open the front door, and . . . .

Mormons.

You know, the bicycle guys. White shirts, black slacks. Name tags. A cross between Wally Cleaver and the Stepford Wives.

I'm Catholic, I say, but they won't stop the step-by-step spiel. I'm the production director at the Catholic radio station, I say, but that didn't make a dent. And I throw in that I'm really busy now working on our Christian rock show. They won't leave me alone, I really don't have time to talk to them and I really don't want to be rude.

At this point, Mrs. Favog comes home with Ruth. We're active in our church, she says. Would you like to come to our 11 a.m. service, they say. We'll be at our church, I respond. Can we come back? they persevere.

"So," asks Stepford Cleaver, "how did you come to your faith?"

"I became Catholic after studying the faith and searching," I replied.

"I came to my faith in the Lord through the Spirit," Stepford said.

"The Spirit has to have something to work with," I shot back.

Just at that moment, an eruption of grinding guitars and screamed vocals pours forth from the huge speakers in our living room, literally shaking the joint. It's the remote speakers from the amp in my home studio/office . . . Ruth has put in a hardcore Christian punk CD, and it's kind of cranked up.

The Mormons jump back from the door. Stepford is startled -- horrified even.

"I don't know how the Spirit could work with that playing," he says.

"Would you believe that's Christian music?" I politely answer.

Stepford is aghast.

"I can't picture Christ listening to that!"

"I can," I tell him as I shut the door.

Dear Diary: Life at Pope FM

EDITOR'S NOTE: Today, Revolution 21's Blog for the People starts an occasional series of dispatches recorded some years ago in the trenches of Catholic radio. The names aren't real, nor are the places, but the stories are -- and it's a snapshot picture of what happens when "Their zeal consumes them" meets "Sinners sacrifice for the institution, not vice versa."

In other words, there has to be a better way.

Here, then, is the first snapshot from Pope FM.

* * *

TUESDAY, OCT. 30, 2001

Dear Diary,

I was training some student "engineers" during tonight's Keys to the Kingdom, our teen call-in show at Pope FM.

The topic was vocations, and the archdiocesan vocations director was the guest. We received the following E-mail, which was not on topic, but was utterly foundational to the faith and to why Pope FM is supposed to exist (reprinted verbatim, typos and all):

Ok, number one, paschal access code? WTF? I just thought I'd 'shoot you an email'. Just heard about your program and thought Id give it a listen. I am looking for something more in my life, its either god or jack daniels and figured you could help. Before you tell me to accept god into my heart tell me, whats he done for you lately? He aint done jack s*** for me.

Oh the stories I could tell. So in short...here is a motto I love and believe in: If God hates you then just hate him back more . . . it works for me.

Rage Against the Machine

P.S. WHeres the cool music? No Butthole Surfers or Jesus Lizard? Break out the classics baby!

OUT OF THREE TEEN-AGERS and the vocations director, not one gave him a clear, simple answer. Indeed, no one answered his question at all.

I nearly was jumping up and down in the control room, holding a dry-erase board with "Jesus -- God -- willingly got on a cross and died for your sins, so that you might have everlasting life."

Then, I was holding up a sign with "John 3:16" on it. Still, no clear, simple answer.

The father of one of the student engineers was in the office, and I walked out to the lobby, despondent. Mr. Klause, a Lutheran, met me before I could say a word, saying "They didn't answer his question!"

I told him what my answer would have been, and he agreed wholeheartedly. And I told the kids they absolutely had to have a short, clear answer to that sort of E-mail, because it was utterly foundational. E-mails like that are why we exist as a Catholic radio station, and if we have no answers, we might as well unplug the transmitter.

I don't think Mona, the 20-something producer, appreciated that. I'll probably hear about my "attitude" from the boss.

Tonight, I am deeply ashamed to be Catholic. No, ashamed isn't the right word. Just heartbroken.

I told the wife that probably eight out of 10 evangelical youth-group kids could have witnessed cogently to this guy.

I JUST WANT TO CRY AND NEVER STOP. In 65 years, this guy will be my old man on his deathbed. Virtually the last thing my father ever said to me was to ask me how much money I made.

I refused to tell him.


-- Me

Dear Diary: More Catholic than the Pope FM

EDITOR'S NOTE: Here's another in the occasional series of dispatches recorded some years ago from the front lines of Catholic radio -- Pope FM.

* * *

SATURDAY, FEB. 18, 2002

Dear Diary,

I am spitting mad.

The other week, as I told you, I somewhat got into it with a couple of the Pope FM powers that be over their planning to bar the Keys to the Kingdom teen-agers (the ones not on the air) from our chapel during the show. I was told it was just for one week, until the little darlings could be "instructed" in proper decorum before the Blessed Sacrament.

Well, tonight, the kids were supposed to be instructed. But still, before I left the station tonight, our "spiritual activities director" denied one teen-ager permission to go into the chapel when he asked, and then told several of the kids that they were requested to (again) stay out of the chapel during the show.

I find this outrageous and incredibly self-righteous. Absolutely outrageous, this telling ANYONE, without demonstrated cause, that they cannot enter into the presence of the living God. That IS what we Catholics believe about the Eucharist, right? That it is the living God? Christ incarnate?

TRUTH BE TOLD, most of these kids are a lot more pious than I am. Though the young volunteer producer of Keys to the Kingdom told me last week that she had to "yell" at one kid for going in the Pope FM chapel barefoot.

I barely restrained myself from telling her "So what? The best Jesus ever did in the footwear department during His earthly life were first-century flip-flops."

Dunno, maybe my revulsion and puzzlement at this rigidity and hyperdevotionalism has turned me into a squishy AmChurch goofus, but I figure Jesus cares more about what's in the kids' hearts than what's on their feet.

This is deeply weird.

And Lord forgive the plank in my own eye, but I told the missus this morning that if Flannery O'Connor were still alive, she'd be writing about our "spiritual activities director."

Furthermore, I offer the following prayer with total sincerity and considerable pain:

"Saints Walker Percy and Flannery O'Connor, O precious barefoot Son of Man who had no home to lay Your sacred head . . . HELLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLPPP!!! Amen."

And "Oy veh!"

Dear Diary: The besieged Church is agin' everthin'

EDITOR'S NOTE: Revolution 21's Blog for the People continues an occasional series of dispatches recorded some years ago in the trenches of Catholic radio. The names aren't real, nor are the places, but the stories are -- and it's a snapshot picture of what happens when "Their zeal consumes them" meets "Sinners sacrifice for the institution, not vice versa."

In other words, there has to be a better way.

WEDNESDAY, APRIL 03, 2002

Dear Diary,


I didn't get home until about nine tonight . . . we're having our semiannual "Pledge-a-Thon" at Pope FM and I've been working from 6:45 a.m. to 8:30 every night.

BTW, today my boss and the development director, during one segment, got into this incredibly self-righteous sounding feedback loop of Orthodox Catholicism Against the Infidels, cracking on the "secular media" and its distortions about the Church, Catholics who don't know their faith, that "forces" would love to stop us in our mission, yadda yadda yadda.

I was in the control room doing a slow burn. Finally, I started to ratchet up the outro music -- giving them the hint to shut up -- and put on some CDs. Then I called the development guy into the control room, shut the door, told him I was telling him this because then was neither the time nor the place to get into a s***-slinging match with my boss, and then calmly let him have it with both barrels.

BASICALLY, I told him they were demonizing the media (and that the media for the most part had the Church's number down pat in the recent scandals), that they sounded incredibly self-righteous, and that if it didn't stop I was going to walk. I told him I knew I would be in a world of hurt if I did, but that it was a matter of conscience with me.

I added that what we needed to be saying was what we were FOR, not that we were poor Catholics being persecuted by the world.

Furthermore, I told him, what we needed to show people was love and humility because we were in no position to be arrogant.

To his credit, he listened and went to the chapel to pray on the matter. He came back and told me the message he got in prayer was to speak to what we believed in as Catholics and not worry about the rest. I don't know if he had a heart-to-heart with Mary about what I said, but the rest of the day went much better, with the exception of one repeat remark Mary made about the "forces." The development honcho was standing in the control room when she did, and I told him that the remark was overly cryptic, nebulous and that, frankly, (with the exception of Satan, who would like to see all evangelism fail) we weren't on enough people's radar screen for there to be a conspiracy against us.

Really, why does Catholic media have to come to this? And why do orthodox Catholics stand for this kind of counterproductive nonsense?

THERE WAS A TIME when I might have bought a lot of this -- and perhaps did buy a lot of this -- but I've been purged of it during the last year or so. Particularly after Sept. 11, when I got to see first-hand how ugly much of the Church's initial reaction to such a trauma could be.

It was either idiotic or Pharisaical, but not Christlike, I don't think.

I listen to how many contemporary, music-oriented evangelical stations that I listen to relate to the broader culture, and I'm envious . . . comparatively. I truly envy that aspect of the broader evangelical-Protestant spirituality -- the emphasis on hope, forgiveness and love. It's not that they're soft on sin -- it's just the emphasis on there being something BETTER than sin, that there is victory over sin and the death resulting from sin.

Orthodox Catholicism in so many quarters, however, just strikes me as stinking of its own peculiar version of the Nutso College-Campus Street Preacher Syndrome. Just all tied up in apologetics and doctrine.

Am I making any sense here? It's difficult to express what is so much a deep sense within the soul and heart.

Dear Diary: Going to Eucharistic charm school

EDITOR'S NOTE: Here's another in the occasional series of dispatches recorded some years ago from the front lines of Catholic radio -- Pope FM.

* * *

SATURDAY, FEB. 9, 2002

Dear Diary,


A massive sex scandal (again) is upon the Church -- priests diddling CHILDREN, diddling TEENS, and bishops covering up the whole mess. It is too much to bear. For me, this may well end up being the final straw. I cannot bear this; I cannot bear AmChurch vapidity; I cannot bear "traditionalist" obsession with protocol above all.

If many are to persevere as Catholics, we are going to have to find a way to reconcile doctrine with the fact that many of those whom we are supposed to obey in matters of morals and faith possess neither. And these are the corrupt shepherds God supposedly has given us.

How, exactly, is a body supposed to get his mind around that? And the reality that the faction of the Church so concerned about the Church's eroding moral authority is the most prone to whistle in the graveyard when presented with the gravest erosion of that moral authority. How am I supposed to get my mind around that?

There were two great schisms over less serious stuff than this. I know there is precedent for similar kinds of corruption in the Church. But would there have BEEN a Church anymore had these previous fits of corruption taken place in the age of mass media and a disarmed Vatican?

God help me, I think the only way some superpious types retain their faith with such (apparent) serenity is that they are, on some level, deeply warped.

We had a staff meeting at Pope FM yesterday about the dedication of our Chapel of the Eternal Word this coming Monday. It was like being hurled back to Jansenism 1955.

Listen, I get upset about liturgical abuses. I cringe when I see women going up for communion with their cleavage falling out of their tops. I was apoplectic when I saw a college kid in the communion line on Good Friday with a "Coed Naked Volleyball" T-shirt on. And I came close to doing physical violence to kids at a "youth Mass" who couldn't stop acting up even during the consecration.

But it damned near enraged me to hear our station manager and volunteer "spiritual activities director" imply strongly that while genuflection on one knee is the Vatican requirement, it really doesn't go far enough. Thus, we should feel free to genuflect on both knees or prostrate ourselves when entering the chapel.

And I was sooooooooo encouraged to hear that I would be allowed to enter into the presence of my Lord and Savior only when properly attired. My usual blue jeans, I understand, are OK so long as they are "in good repair." But staff members are not to wear shorts in the chapel, even walking shorts, as we are to set an example for proper reverence.

Walking shorts are OK for visitors.

Our spiritual activities director then said how it dismays her to see kids in shorts at Mass at the boarding-school chapel near her house. Egad!!! I'm sorry, but when it's 95 or 100 degrees here, I wear nice shorts to Mass.

You know, I know people who work at that school, and I know the reputation of Father, and I know that any inappropriately dressed kid would be out of that church in a heartbeat.

But for me, the coup de grace, was when the powers that be decided that on Monday night, the kids in for Keys to the Kingdom will not be allowed into the chapel without adult supervision because they had not been instructed yet in proper chapel decorum. I objected in the strongest terms about denying them the opportunity to be in the Eucharistic presence, saying that if a kid went in there and -- out of ignorance -- wasn't sufficiently reverent, it couldn't be held against him. And if a kid were in there unsupervised and were willfully irreverent, that was a matter between him and God.

Furthermore, I said, suppose someone called into the show and had real problems. Should the kids not on the air be prevented from taking their prayers to the Real Presence?

"Jesus hears our prayers just as well wherever we are," said the spiritual activities maven. "They don't necessarily have to be in the chapel to pray."

I love it when people slow-pitch to Barry Bonds.

"Well," I said, "that would seem to beg the question of why exactly we have a chapel."

At that point, the boss decided that we needed to move on to other topics.

Of course.