Author: Eric Johnson

Reform, Marine-style
In the 1970s, the Marine Corps was on the fast track to ruin. In many units, discipline was lax or broken. Young lieutenants would party with their subordinates, and smoked pot with them before training. Fights and racial tensions were even higher than in the ’50s and ’60s. By almost any measure, recruits entering the service were substandard. If these conditions persisted, it would have meant the end of the Corps.
Far more than the other services, the Marines are theoretically unnecessary to America’s defense. The Air Force has planes, and the Army has ground troops and artillery, but the sole reason the Marines still exist is because of its culture, the cause of its unique record of success. (The Corps has never been defeated in a battle — ever.)
With that culture disintegrating, a group of officers, almost all of them Vietnam veterans, decided that they had had enough. Generally, they were mid-level officers who were not about to see their Corps go down without a fight. To my knowledge, they created no institutions and formed no cabals; there was simply a common agreement that reform had to happen, and quickly.
Though their reforms did not happen overnight, in bureaucratic terms the changes happened rapidly. Drug users were identified through a rigorous testing program and kicked out. Other malcontents were unceremoniously removed. New recruits were held to higher educational and behavioral standards. Most importantly, the rank-and-file Marines began to police their own more than they had been, stopping dishonorable actions and encouraging martial virtues at the lowest level. These reforms were part of the general rehabilitation of the U.S. military in the 1980s, but the Corps was particularly successful. Though the other services have had intermittent problems attracting new recruits, the Marines have not missed a recruiting quota for two decades.
The Catholic Church in America has been experiencing a crisis similar to the Marines a generation ago. Because she is unsupported by taxes, she could theoretically disappear. Because of the protracted internal war after Vatican II, large swaths of the Church have been corrupted by worldly (and netherworldly) influences. Yet there are still plenty of people who care about her, and who will not let her die in our country.
The “current crisis” in our Church will end when enough bishops and priests decide they have had enough, and undertake reforms similar to the Marines: raise standards and kick out the main troublemakers. I have heard commentators — including people I trust — say that it will take a generation or two for the Church to recover. Nonsense. The goal should not be recovery, but purity and a renewed sense of mission; there is no reason we can’t turn things around by the end of the decade, or at least get a big start on it. Maybe it will take dozens of years for the Church to regain its former influence (an influence that was hardly overwhelming or universally accepted, mind you). I have no way of knowing. But there is no reason to proceed slowly, and no reason not to begin right now.
A suggestion for a first step: fire the people who caused the recent problems — those who publicly dissent from Catholic sexual morality. Immediately.

Refined Jambalaya
This year, you may be having people over to your house for a Christmas feast or a New Years’ bacchanal, and the question in the back of your mind is: how can I feed the most amount of people for the least amount of effort and cost? Let me propose to you this recipe for jambalaya, which I’ve refined over the years. I don’t propose it as the definitive version, merely as one that I’ve been working on for a long time. (So by “refined” I don’t mean that it’s a fancy dish, because it isn’t.)
Before I was married, I made big pots of jambalaya and froze the excess quantities in Mason jars, which I would eat for weeks thereafter. I got the original recipe from my Grandma Jane, who with my grandfather used to live in Louisiana for a while. If you omit the shrimp, it’s pretty cheap, and the flavors are nothing short of spectacular. A bowl of it will fill your belly nicely, and its moderate amount of fat won’t increase your belly’s permanent size.
If you’re not familiar with jambalaya, it’s a Louisiana specialty that is made many different ways. At its most basic, it is sautéed vegetables and meat with rice. It can have a tomato-based sauce or a stock-based sauce; this version uses both. The meats lend themselves to substitution: people will use oysters or crawfish instead of (or in addition to) shrimp, and ham for the sausage, or duck for the chicken…anything you like, or anything that’s available.
To eat the leftovers, cover a bowl full of jambalaya with a plate to make sure it doesn’t dry out. Or don’t, if it’s moist enough to lose a little water in the process.
4 c. onions, chopped
2 c. green onions (including tops), chopped
1 c. green peppers, chopped
1 c. celery, chopped
¼-½ c. fresh parsley, minced
½ c. butter (one stick)
16 oz. canned diced tomatoes
8 oz. canned tomato sauce
12 oz. tomato paste
1 tbsp. basil (if dried; 2 tbsp. if fresh)
1 tbsp. oregano (if dried; 2 tbsp. if fresh)
4 med. cloves garlic, minced
2 lbs. sausage (can be kielbasa, andouille, or whatever you like)
2 lbs. chicken meat
1 ½ lbs. large frozen shrimp, peeled and deveined
3 c. long-grain white rice
8 c. stock or broth
Tabasco to taste

1. Roast or bake the chicken before commencing; leftover chicken is fine, as long as it’s not too highly seasoned.
2. Heat butter in a large stockpot (at least 12 quarts) until it has stopped frothing.
3. Throw in the onions, green onions, peppers, celery, and parsley, and sauté until onions are semi-transparent.
4. Add tomatoes, tomato paste, and tomato sauce, along with oregano, basil, and garlic. Stir until well-mixed.
5. Add rice and stock. Bring to a boil.
6. Reduce heat, but keep an energetic simmer going. Let a substantial amount of the liquid evaporate. How much liquid is up to you – if you like a thicker jambalaya, then let more liquid evaporate. Regardless, don’t let the liquid get below the top of the ingredients. Stir frequently.
7. When you like the amount of liquid you see, add the shrimp and the chicken. Cover pot tightly, reduce heat to low, and let it cook for 45 minutes. Resist the urge to uncover the pot, as it may cause your rice to cook unevenly. Cook longer if the rice isn’t done.
8. Stir in a few shakes of Tabasco or other seasonings.
9. Serve in bowls along with salad and good bread, or maybe biscuits. Jambalaya will stay hot in a covered pot for an astonishing amount of time, but take it off the heat or the rice will get mushy, and nobody likes that.

Serves 12-18, depending on their appetites.

Law quits, pope accepts
First one to post the news! Ha!

What to say to a Mass-bound fallen-away Catholic, con’d.
Fr. James Poumade, regular visitor to Catholic Light, diocesan priest of Arlington, Va., and future godfather of our pending baby, weighs in on Sal’s dilemma.
As a priest and a moral theologian, I can say without a single shred of doubt in my mind whatsoever that Sal did the right thing. There are a few operative principles here:
Scandal, in the moral sense, meaning something that leads one into sin. Lessening someone’s reverence for the Eucharist in order to make them feel welcome is not a good way to restore them to the right practice of the faith. It teaches people that the Church’s teaching and respect for Our Lord in the Blessed Sacrament can be discarded when they make people feel bad.
Additionally, people who hear of the situation from her may get the idea that missing Mass, etc., is not a mortal sin. We already have enough Catholics of that persuasion.
It is true that we do not know if she would have committed a mortal sin, subjectively. Depending on her level of knowledge, she may well still have committed a venial sin. Anyone who says, “Oh well, it’s just a venial sin,” needs to take a good long look at his own conscience before he starts throwing stones at Sal. The Sacraments should bring grace, not cause sin, which would likely have been the case here. Even if no sin was imputed because of total ignorance, she still would not have received any sacramental or sanctifying grace. That is a misuse of the Sacraments, which is not spiritually healthy for anyone.
More to the point, yes, it’s possible that subjectively Sal couldn’t know whether or not it was a mortal sin for her. That is precisely why he HAD to stop her from receiving. All we can do in that case, since we don’t read souls, is to go by the objective reality of the situation. Objectively it would be a mortal sin.
So out of love for that soul and for Jesus Christ, he had to say what he did. If you see someone innocently about to set fire to a building, you don’t tell yourself he probably doesn’t know that it’s wrong and keep going.
Now, some seem to think that any mention of confession or of not receiving is harsh. I would agree if it were done in an arrogant or severe manner. But that doesn’t seem to be the case here. Instead, gently, lovingly and patiently, this is a perfect chance to explain the doctrine of the Real Presence, the beauty of Christ’s love in the Holy Sacrifice of the Mass, and why, for love’s sake, we need to get our spiritual houses in order before we can receive Him.
Why did the Fugitive cry? I have no way of knowing – and neither did Sal. Perhaps her tears actually signal the start of a painful but necessary healing process. (“And you, My disciples, will you also leave?”) Perhaps they don’t at all. Either way, Sal did what a Catholic should do, and most likely in the manner that it should have been done.
Now we can say that it’s between her soul and God.
Would I have denied her Communion if she approached me? If a Catholic comes to me in the Communion line, I am not allowed to refuse him in most circumstances. But I can and do approach people with “issues” before and after Mass, which is what Sal did. For example, I can’t refuse Ted Kennedy if he comes up. But I can tell him before Mass not to receive, or suggest after Mass that he really should see me in the confessional.

You’re welcome!
I guess my only response to Pete’s comment below is “you’re welcome,” though I play a teeny, tiny role in America’s defense. There are plenty of other ways to defend freedom: speak out for justice, protect the weak, learn why freedom is precious, and teach others to love it. That should be a good start. Don’t think the defense of freedom is something you can “outsource” to a few people in the military. It’s your job, too. Find your little role, and fulfill it.
This message first posted with a spelling error, but was corrected quickly before Nihil Obstat found out.