Author: Carlo Romero

Love can manifest itself in many different ways:

“This, then, is the restlessness of love: ceaselessly seeking the good of the other, of the beloved, without ever stopping and with the intensity that leads even to tears. Then I think of Jesus weeping at the tomb of his friend Lazarus; of Peter who, after denying Jesus, encounters his gaze full of mercy and love, weeps bitterly, and of the father who waits on the terrace for his son’s return and when he spies him still far off runs to meet him; the Virgin Mary comes to mind lovingly following her Son Jesus even to the Cross. Do we feel the restlessness of love? Do we believe in love for God and for others? Or are we unconcerned by this? Not in an abstract manner, not only in words, but as a real brother to those we come across, the brother who is beside us! Are we moved by their needs or do we remain closed in on ourselves, in our communities which are often ‘handy communities’ for us?”
— Pope Francis

At the start of last year, I was optimistic.  After the hell of 2020, there seemed to be a break in the clouds.  Yes, the world was still on lockdown and the virus was still raging, but now we had a vaccine.  Science was going to save us.  It seemed like it was just a question of time before we removed our masks, got on a flight, saw each other, hugged each other, played with each other, held each other.  I had predicted a maskless summer.  And all of this did come to pass.  For a time, anyway.

Hell, of course, had other plans.  It teased us with a little bit of freedom and then it mutated and tightened its grip.  For many reasons, 2021 was a darker year for me than 2020.  I doubt I’m alone in this.  It was so dark that it felt like my most precious dreams were pushed so way out of reach that they became impossible.  

But in the last few days, I’ve reminded myself of a few things.  In my experience, passing through hell has often meant emerging into heaven. More than one person of great achievement has declared that “impossible” is an opinion, not a fact—and all of those people endured great suffering. The chains constraining us and our imagination are often fabrications of that very same imagination.  None of us know enough to know what’s impossible.  And sometimes, it is when our dreams seem most out of reach that they are nearest.  We just need to look and see.  Science is not going to save us.  We are going to save ourselves with open eyes, open minds and open hearts.

That which seems impossible cannot possibly be so.  Existence, itself, is a testament to this.  Heaven has better plans.

So here’s to 2022.  May we all escape the chains of hell and emerge into the freedom and lightness of heaven.

Happy New Year!

“Hope is being able to see that there is light despite all of the darkness.”
— Desmond Tutu

I saw a greeting card recently that reminded me of what Christmas is about.

Once again the revelry will be muted and gatherings curtailed—if not outright canceled.  That has saddened and disappointed me as, I’m sure, it has saddened and disappointed you.  But remembering the original and essential meaning of Christmas brings me peace.

Yes, Christmas is an explicitly religious holiday, regardless of regular attempts to secularize it.  It is meant to be a celebration of the Father’s love for His children by sending light into a dark world.

It is also a celebration of a mother’s love for her newborn child.  In the face of the perils of her world, she chose to listen, believe and hope.  Out of hope and love, she brought light into a dark world.

In other words, Christmas is about hope and love.  And as far as it is about hope and love, it also about the joyful heart that expresses both.  Whatever further deprivations I am experiencing, I am reminding myself of that.

I wish you a very Merry Christmas and I pray that by the next time I see you, hope and love will have taken enough roost in my heart that I can express them joyfully towards you.

And here we go again.  

If I wanted to, given everything that’s happening in the world right now, I could worry myself half to death.  I’m sure you could, as well.  We’re already fatigued and now we have yet another Greek letter to deal with. We’ve just had too many sequels.  When is this series going to end?

In light of that and in light of the Christmas season, I want to lighten my mood and, I hope, yours, as well, by settling one of the most serious issues of our time: just what is the greatest Christmas movie ever?

Now, I know that significant fissures have formed in the American body politic so I think it’s time to rally around an idea and a theme that we can all agree on: 

Die Hard is the greatest Christmas movie ever!

Let’s look at the facts.

It should not even be in dispute that Die Hard is a Christmas movie in the first place.  The movie takes place on Christmas!  Yes, it’s set in California and it is warm enough for John McClane to go barefoot and wear a sleeveless tee shirt, but Santa visits all climates in December.  No humbug here.

Now that we have that out of the way, let’s consider other candidates:

A Miracle on 34th Street.  No.  A single man defeating heavily armed German speaking terrorists is a greater miracle than anything that ever happened on 34th street.

Love Actually.  Please.  There is no greater love than a husband risking his life to save his wife—except a wife risking her life to save her husband and child (see Long Kiss Goodnight).

Frosty the Snowman.  Come on!  Too sad.  He melts in the end.  John McClane gets buffed in the end.

Rudolph the Red-Nosed Reindeer.  Rudolph could fly.  Great.  But did he have a catchphrase like “yipee-kai-yay @$#!$!” that has been imitated over and over?  No one has even tried to imitate the nose.  Every action movie since 1988 has been a variation on Die Hard in one way or another.

A Christmas Carol.  A classic, it’s true, but which version?  Patrick Stewart’s version?  George C. Scott’s?  Michael Caine and the Muppets?  There is only one Die Hard and one John McClane.  

How the Grinch Stole Christmas.  Again, no.  Then again, I’ve never seen that movie.  But, still, no.  How could stealing be part of any Christmas story?  Unless the theft is of millions of dollars of bearer bonds and is punished by a righteous NYPD office on vacation trying to reconcile with his wife.

It’s a Wonderful Life.  It’s a wonderful movie.  I loved that movie.  Who doesn’t love the story of a man being shown the meaning of his life by an angel and then the whole town coming together to save him after he helped all of them?  Heartwarming.  But where is the action?  Where is the hand to hand combat?  Where are the explosions?

Die Hard has everything.  Romance.  Drama.  Pathos.  Action.  And, yes, it has Christmas.

Die Hard might even be the greatest movie ever, Christmas or not.
You may agree or disagree.  You may deny the obvious facts.  It’s a free country.

But I think we can certainly agree that it’s better to worry about silly things like whether Die Hard is the greatest Christmas movie ever than it is to worry about real things named after Greek letters that may ravage yet another holiday season.  At a time when there are very real threats to our well being that are beyond our control, maybe we can have a bit of silly fun.

I hope you have much love and joy this season, regardless of which Christmas movie you like best—or if you don’t like any kind of Christmas movie at all.  We all need it.  

…it would be bad for my reputation! ;D