President Obama reminded Americans this week that while the murdering Islamists are beheading children, raping women and burning people alive, we can’t get on our high horse.  After all, there were the crusades.

Please.  We are long past (800 years past) the point where we should be trying to compare current atrocities to anything that occurred during the crusades.

I’m outraged by the mayhem occurring in the Middle East.  And there is absolutely no reason for me to temper that concern because of something that happened hundreds of years ago.  A past wrong doesn’t diminish a current atrocity.

In the middle of the last century, America fought a rather bloody war with Germany and Japan.  Both those countries clearly had lost their moral compass and engaged in despicable acts.  But 70 years later, Americans are buying Japanese cars and computers.  Germany is an important ally.  I even like the German soccer team.

But those crusaders?  Bad guys.  Ill-tempered.  Violent.  Murdering Franks.  They were so awful that I can never hold any other murdering butcher to account.

Nuts.

But just to give this a little important context…the crusades were a defensive action to confront Muslim armed invasion.  In that sense, I guess you can draw a comparison to what is happening today – except we can’t seem to get today’s crusade off the ground.  Perhaps we’ve seen our last crusade.

I’m writing these lines as a special service to school administrators (most of the public-school variety) who have shown a deep fear of jewelry.

This came to my attention earlier this week when a nine-year-old boy was suspended from his Texas school for saying he could make a classmate disappear by using his “Mount Doom” ring.

The Mount Doom ring he had in his possession was a replica of the one used in the Hobbit movies.  Thus, it really couldn’t make anyone disappear.  In fact, it is important to note that the “real” Mount Doom ring in the movies didn’t really make anyone disappear either.  IT WAS JUST A MOVIE; THE RING DOESN’T REALLY EXIST.

But I’m sure the kid has learned his lesson and will never again threaten to do something with a replica ring that the original can’t do, the original being a creation of the imagination.

What worries me is that there are lots of kids going to school every day with a chain around their neck.  And on the chain is a cross.  And on the cross is the figure of the crucified Christ.

So I want to assure school administrators that the little figure isn’t really a crucified person, but just a molded piece of metal.  Of course, unlike the situation with the ring, there was a real person who was crucified, so the little figure on the chain isn’t a representation of a figment of someone’s imagination – it is based on reality.

Now to get to the important part…If a child shows his little cross with figure to a classmate, he isn’t threatening to crucify him.  He isn’t hoping he will be crucified.  He likely is saying something like:

• This is my crucifix.
• Catholics wear these to remind us of our faith.
• My parents got me this for my confirmation.
• You should see the cool one my mom wears.

Perhaps complicating this situation is the practice of many devoted Catholic to wearing a “rosary ring.”  I have one of these, which is a simple metal ring with 10 bumps, one for each “Hail Mary” in a decade of the rosary, which to school administrators can be defined as a non-threatening devotional prayer.  My ring also has a little cross so I know when I’ve completed 10 Hail Marys.  The little cross can’t be used as a weapon or make anyone disappear.  In fact, the rosary ring itself can’t make anyone disappear, nor pretend to as with the Mount Doom ring.

As I said at the outset, I offer these thoughts in the hope that school administrators will not be threatened by Catholic students.  But in all fairness, I don’t think the Mount Doom folks represent much threat either.

I doubt I’ll ever open a bakery.  But if I do, it won’t be in Denver.

First, the altitude means I’d probably have to adjust the recipes in all my cookbooks.  (OK, they are my wife’s cookbooks and on rare occasions I borrow one.)

Second, I hear lots of the locals have a smoking problem.

Third (and possibly related to the previous issue), bakers get sued for strange reasons in Denver.

I can understand how a baker might legitimately get sued.  Perhaps he drops his false teeth in the batter and they end up in a birthday cake.  Perhaps he puts plaster of Paris instead of flour in the cookie dough.  Maybe he mixes up the toothpaste and vanilla frosting.  Or…a customer could slip on a banana peel carelessly discarded from the banana cream pie.

But not in Denver.  In the mile high city (this related to both the elevation and point two above), one baker is being sued for declining to bake for a gay wedding.  Another baker is being sued for declining to make a cake with anti-gay slogans.

OK. We are talking about a cake, a mixture of flour, eggs, sugar and some flavors, artificial or natural. Not a billboard.  Not an ad campaign.  Not a feature film.  Just a cake.

And can’t a cake just be a cake?  To bake or not to bake – must that be a ponderous question decided by lawyers, judges and juries?

I don’t know.  But bakers in Denver should sell plain, dull cakes devoid of words, images or symbols.  I suppose they can still put candles on the birthday cakes – until someone realizes candles come from petroleum.

Ernie Banks died Friday night.  For those of you not immersed in Chicago culture and who may not know of Ernie, he was Chicago’s most famous sports hero before Michael Jordan.

He played baseball for the Chicago Cubs (please note these good words are being written by a White Sox fan).  He was a league MVP.  He was an all-star.  He hit more than 500 home runs and fielded flawlessly.

He was upbeat, positive and loved the game he played so well.  There wasn’t an ounce of pretense in the man and he always had time to sign an autograph for a fan. Nobody didn’t like Ernie, even those of us on the other side of town.

But this column isn’t about Ernie; it is about the misunderstanding some folks have about Catholics and statues.  However, had Ernie not died last week, this topic likely would not have crept into my mind.

There is this great statue of Ernie outside the stadium where he played. (I would mention the name of the place, but there is only so far a Sox fan can go.) It shows him in his beloved batting stance and it is a place where tourists like to have their pictures taken.  And the Cubs and City of Chicago are going to transport the statue downtown to Daley Plaza this week so people can pass by and pay their respects.

That’s right.  People will stop by the statue and pay their respects.  I expect people will doff their hats, maybe say a prayer, enjoy a few memories.  Tears are certain to collect in more than a few eyes.

If you ask people why they are visiting a bronze image of a departed man, I expect they will say things like:  I just want to do something…it felt good to say hello…I remembered the time he signed my mitt…I know Ernie would appreciate it.

These are the sorts of things that go through my mind when I stop by a statue of saint, although I don’t know of a saint who ever autographed a mitt.

Our parish just ordered a statue of Padre Pio.  Our pastor has a special regard for him, as do a number of us in the parish.  The statue will be in the main church and I expect folks will stop by, look, say a prayer, remember something Padre Pio said or did and therein be renewed a bit in their faith.

I’m certain that Cubs fans are well aware that the statue of Ernie isn’t really Ernie – just an artistic mass of bronze. Nobody worships Ernie’s statue.

And despite what some people might believe, Catholics really do understand that a statue is a statue – not the actual person it represents.  We don’t worship statues. But a statue can serve to trigger our memories, increase our devotion, maybe even help us strengthen our faith.

We Catholic sure could use a few more men like Padre Pio.  And the Cubs sure could use a few more men like Ernie Banks.

Now as he walked by the Sea of Galilee, he saw Simon and Andrew his brother casting a net into the sea: for they were fishers. And Jesus said unto them, Come ye after me, and I will make you to become fishers of men. And straightway they forsook their nets, and followed him. And when he had gone a little further thence, he saw James the son of Zebedee, and John his brother, who also were in the ship mending their nets. And straightway he called them: and they left their father Zebedee in the ship with the hired servants, and went after him. – Mark, Chapter One

I’m a fisherman, so I’m not surprised that Jesus went to the fishermen to find his first disciples.

No, I’m not suggesting that I would have been worthy to be selected for such an honor.  But there is something burning in the heart of every fisherman that Christ knew He needed in those first disciples:  HOPE.

Let me explain…I have been known to spend the better part of a day casting lures all over a lake, trying to catch a fish.  When the conditions are less than ideal, I might cast hundreds of times before finally catching a fish.  But like all fisherman, I hope that the next cast will be the one that connects with, as fishermen say, a “nice” fish.  No matter how bad my luck…I hope it will change in a flash.  And sometimes it does!

That’s the sort of thinking the disciples needed.  They were fishing for men who might be open to the call of the gospel.  And as they would certainly learn, some days the men just weren’t biting.  People can be cynical, resistant, negative, grumpy.  I have known bass and pike with the same characteristics.  But at least the fish are good to eat.

I expect people who organize contests like the Miss Universe pageant spend lots of time worrying about pictures.

First, they have to make sure that every picture of a contestant shows them happy and smiling, looking as wholesome as possible in an itsy bitsy teeny weenie bikini.

Second, they have to hope that no pictures of the contestants show up on the internet showing the young ladies in less than an itsy bitsy teeny weenie bikini.

But a few days ago an apparently even more appalling controversy arose when a picture appeared showing two contestants standing next to each other, Miss Israel and Miss Lebanon.  They weren’t fighting or smooching, just standing there looking pretty.

Well…it seems Lebanon considers Israel to be its enemy and bans contact between the two countries.  And while in my mind this was hardly a threatening sort of contact (actually more of a near association), it got the folks back in the Cedar groves really upset.  And Miss Lebanon claimed she tried to avoid Miss Israel, who apparently was bounding about promoting peace and love.

Frankly, I’ve never been a Miss Universe fan.  The participants just stand around looking pretty and proclaim their desire for world peace, kindness to animals and the benefits of healthy herbs.  But we’re a long way from world peace if it upsets an entire country when two girls stand beside each other for a selfie.

Poor Switzerland has been subjected to an epidemic of irony this week.

It comes in the form of the World Economic Forum.  The irony is that the forum includes lots of politicians and business leaders who are drowning in wealth but are talking about how much they care about the poor and downtrodden.

• The forum attendees insist something must be done about global warming; they arrived in more than 1700 private jets.
• They espouse income equality; a ticket to attend costs $40,000.
• There is much wringing of hands over the unequal treatment of women; only 17 percent of the participants are female persons.

I’m sorry, but I can’t take someone very seriously when they are expressing concern about the poor while nibbling on caviar at exclusive hotel.

If I were running this event it would be at a Holiday Inn in New Jersey.  Public transportation only. Cold cereal for breakfast, hot dogs for lunch, salad bar for dinner.  $100 a day room and meals – extra for HBO.

If someone really wants to help others, don’t tell me how much you care – act like it.

I love the Pope.  I agree with him about everything having to do with Catholic doctrine.

We part ways from time to time on non-doctrinal issues.  I think he might be misinformed about climate change.  He backs the wrong soccer team.  But how could anyone not like the man?

Pope Francis is joyful, direct, hard-working and down-to-earth.  And he serves ice cream on Air Papa.  According to press reports (you have to believe the press ate most of the ice cream) the ride to Rome from the Philippines included a choice of pistachio, malted milk or brown butter almond brittle.

I would have gone for one of each.

Pope Francis got lots of attention by suggesting that Catholics shouldn’t breed like rabbits.  Makes for a great headline, huh?

But the reality of the comment was a bit more complicated.  The media immediately assumed that he was saying that Catholics shouldn’t have lots and lots of children; everyone knows rabbits are amazingly prolific.

Rabbits also will mate at the drop of a hat with any rabbit of the opposite gender.  They aren’t on the list of animals that mate for life (unfortunately, humans are struggling to qualify for the list, too).

Black vultures mate for life.  Wolves mate for life.  French angelfish mate for life, which is more than can be said of many French humans.  Bald eagles mate for life, which makes me glad that at least one symbol of America retains an ounce of respectability.

By asking Catholics not to breed like rabbits, the Pope is suggesting more than simply not having a lot of children.  In fact, I don’t think it is a numbers game; it is about love, responsibility, chastity and (this is scary to many) discipline.

Like Spider said, with great power comes great responsibility.  And the power to create a human life needs better management than a rabbit’s sex-driven brain could provide.  And within Catholic teaching, that means a couple can make a decision NOT to have sexual relations because they can’t afford to care for another child or they carry a genetic flaw or they already have too much in their lives to handle.  But if they choose to have sexual relations, they accept the possibility that God will choose them to bring a new life into the world.

Despite all efforts to make this complicated, it really is quite simple (as opposed to being always easy).  It is well beyond the feeble mind of a rabbit, but not a Catholic.

I’m sure there are sensible, practical pagans around the world who are wondering why more than 6,000,000 people would stand in the rain.

Ah…let me count the reasons…

• They are in the Philippines
• They are Catholic
• It is Mass celebrated by the Holy Father
• It probably happens once in a lifetime

But to be honest, my first reaction was a bit like the non-believers – what insanity.  Then I remembered something I did just about a year ago when I was blessed to visit Rome.

A kind soul gave me a ticket to attend Mass inside St Peter’s, celebrated by the Holy Father.  It was Sunday, and following Mass the Pope was scheduled to pray the Angelus and give a reflection from his window high about the square outside.

It was cold, windy and rainy.  But as soon as Mass finished, I marched into the square and stood in the rain (with a group of friends) and waited for the Pope to appear.  By the time he arrived, we were pretty wet, at least from the knees down.  (Raincoats and umbrellas are imperfect creations.)

Once he appeared, he was too far away that I could barely see him.  And he spoke in Italian, which I don’t understand (except for some of the hand signals drivers in Rome use).

But we all stood there, prayed, cheered, clapped, laughed and celebrated the joy of being with the Holy Father.  It appears I am as insane as the folks in the Philippines.  But it is crazy good.