Of Mice and Monsignors

-- George and Lennie, admiring Moderate Muslims

In the ongoing wake of the cowardly disinvitation of Robert Spencer by the Catholic Diocese of Worcester, Massachusetts, through its Bishop Robert McManus and its Monsignor Thomas Sullivan, a petition has been started to get signatures with which to implore those Catholic dhimmis to rethink their decision -- or at the very least, to feel ashamed at their betrayal of principles of the Catholic Church, of Christianity, and of Western Civilization.

One Jihad Watch regular registered quite a good comment, which I reproduce here:

“I was not looking for a problem,” he said. “The bishop felt that by disinviting him we would be avoiding a problem in casting a bad light on Christian-Islamic relations,” Monsignor Sullivan said. “Why risk that?”

I see. Praying for the martyrs in the Roman Colosseum would have cast a bad light on Christian-Roman relations.

Is this guy nuts, stupid or just morally vacant?

Yo! Skippy! Real, live, old fashioned Christian martyrdom is back BIG TIME. It's spreading like wild fire across the middle east, north Africa and has already gotten to Europe.

 How about you raise a prayer for the oppressed instead of pretending that nothing is happening.

"Why risk that?" I'll tell you why. To honor the souls of the suffering. To stand up for the innocent.

To tell the truth. And to obey the basic principles of your faith -- assuming that you actually believe.

You claim to be a Catholic. One assumes you've at least heard of what it means for someone to die for their faith in Christ !!!!!

Man up or get lost.

[End quote.]

And joeblough's comment, in turn, inspired me to write the following:

I hear your anger, joeblough, and I resonate with it. You put into words exactly how I feel -- not only now, but also a little over six years ago, which was one of the defining moments for me as my Learning Curve on the problem of Islam got another jolt of outrage (other moments for me have included, along with, of course, 911, also the London bombings, and the Mumbai rampage).

I don't know why I was so touched by one other particular event, back in September of 2006, when an elderly Catholic nun (an Italian named Leonella Sgorbati -- about whom I had written on my blog a tribute titled Saint Leonella) who had spent her life helping poor children in Somalia was shot in the back three times by two Muslims who had taken to heart the murderous Friday sermon they had heard only days before, when a prominent Islamic cleric at the main mosque of Mogadishu preached:

“Whoever offends our Prophet Muhammad should be killed on the spot by the nearest Muslim.” 

The occasion for this atrocity of thought, speech and action by Muslims was the Pope's lecture at Regensburg -- the typical Islamic excuse du jour. 

And what was the reaction of Catholics in the aftermath of that atrocity (not to mention others that flared up around the world at that time)? Pretty much the same they have had in response to Muslim atrocities before and since; all predicated on precisely this anxious concern not to ruffle the feathers or break the eggshells of their precious "Abrahamic dialogue" they imagine they are having with their Imaginary Muslim Friends. 

(Another of my essays -- "I like to wake up and smell my Islamic coffee black, no milk" -- is apposite in this regard.) 

There is nothing so cravenly cowardly and morally despicable as a man (whether he be an ordinary layperson or a lofty Monsignor) who behaves as though there is a knife at his throat, when there is none -- all the while casting his cowardice as some form of politically correct, holier-than-thou and starry-eyed righteousness. 

In closing, I would love to add a commonly recognized epithet, in the form of three words -- the first the f word (not "faith") in the imprecatory form, the second the second person object in the accusative form, the third the honorary title of this bloated buffoon -- that in this context would acquire almost a solemn invocation to express our outrage; nay, our fury.   

But, alas, I shall restrain myself, at least for now. And at any rate, to have the requisite verve and punch, it would require Joe Pesci to utter it -- and I'm no good at impressions.