Cardinal Philippe Barbarin (Lyons, France) simply wanted to get in a good bike
ride when journalists caught sight of him.
ride when journalists caught sight of him.
Perhaps every man has a love-hate relationship with his local newspaper. My father read the New York Times every morning with affection, but also with loathing. The late Fr. Richard John Neuhaus would read every editorial of the NYT and then lampoon them in his journal First Things. I must admit to feeling good to see a fresh copy of the Los Angeles Times by my door on my first morning at Thomas Aquinas College. I have come to “hate” that newspaper, but I read it every day. Like any human endeavor, it contains much that is good—articles about astronomical discoveries, bird life on the Channel Islands, and basic facts about world happenings. Its shamelessly-biased political journalism has even endeared itself to me—so predictable, so naïve in its sophistication. I have become used to the liberal media perhaps as St. John Vianney became used to the devil, whom he affectionately nicknamed le Grappin, the “Scratcher.” Certainly the Times scratches, but rarely does it scratch beneath the surface. Let us hope that most people do not take this kind of journalism very seriously.
Few news agencies miss an opportunity to discredit the Catholic Church, and the Los Angeles Times seems anxious to lead the pack. At least every other day it sports a front-page story about scandals in the Archdiocese of Los Angeles, of which, sadly, there is no dearth. But although the paper clearly despises the Church, I’m struck by its fascination with Catholicism. Few Vatican events pass that don’t find at least a small article in the Times. It has devoted assiduous coverage to the papal interregnum. Naturally, it misunderstands things, reading everything through purely political lenses. But one is struck by the newspaper’s fascination with everything Catholic. No doubt the editors see the Church as the longest, largest, and most-enduring political story in history. But beyond mere political curiosity, I think the secularist trend-setters discern something more in the Church. As Herod feared John the Baptist, but “liked to listen to him,” so contemporary liberalism loathes the Church, but likes to read about her. The Los Angeles Times’ very fascination with Rome affords some measure of hope for our ailing secular culture. Perhaps all is not lost, after all.
Few news agencies miss an opportunity to discredit the Catholic Church, and the Los Angeles Times seems anxious to lead the pack. At least every other day it sports a front-page story about scandals in the Archdiocese of Los Angeles, of which, sadly, there is no dearth. But although the paper clearly despises the Church, I’m struck by its fascination with Catholicism. Few Vatican events pass that don’t find at least a small article in the Times. It has devoted assiduous coverage to the papal interregnum. Naturally, it misunderstands things, reading everything through purely political lenses. But one is struck by the newspaper’s fascination with everything Catholic. No doubt the editors see the Church as the longest, largest, and most-enduring political story in history. But beyond mere political curiosity, I think the secularist trend-setters discern something more in the Church. As Herod feared John the Baptist, but “liked to listen to him,” so contemporary liberalism loathes the Church, but likes to read about her. The Los Angeles Times’ very fascination with Rome affords some measure of hope for our ailing secular culture. Perhaps all is not lost, after all.
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