There aren't a lot of saint commemorations this week, which I guess is understandable: People should be focused on the coming anyway, as opposed to on those quintessential focusers. But if you're looking for time with the saints, today brings us Ignatius of Antioch, who perhaps has the best childhood anecdote of any saint. Tradition tells us he was the child Jesus placed on his lap when he said, “Let the children come unto me.” He was one of Benedict Groeschel's favorite saints. I hope they're enjoying one another's company this week.
The erudite Joseph Pearce asks a good question, "Was Dante Wrong to Name the People He Put in Hell?" I'd never given it much thought. I've always thought it was funny, but I never considered it from a moral perspective. Pearce concludes that Dante shouldn't have done it. I'm not so sure. I mean, sure, we never know for sure who all is in hell, but we can't make some pretty safe assumptions, even if we, like Balthasar, dare hope that those miserable curs were saved.
That last blurb brought to mind, obviously, Hitler. It reminded me of my standby response to the sophomoric objection that I can't judge something if I've never tried it: "Well, I never met Hitler, but I know he was a dick." If I've had a few drinks, I normally reference to experimentation with sodomy. (Of course, Voltaire, the perhaps the smartest dumb person of all time, tried it once to see what it was like. When his homosexual counterpart excitedly asked to do it again, Voltaire responded, "No. Once a philosopher, twice a sodomite." Like I said, he was perhaps the smartest dumb guy ever.)