Los Angeles Times
Margaret Carlson
It was great to feel Catholic again last week as the pope was buried with all the church's ancient splendor: the flowing robes, the stately miters, the Gregorian chants.
I was taken back to High Mass at Good Shepherd in Camp Hill, Pa. It was our place of worship — and with its music, costumes and liturgy, our concert hall and our theater as well.
Add the Knights of Columbus, bingo and Mother Marita Joseph running the grade school, and that was Catholic parish life in the '60s.
It was a wonderful way to grow up.
But I was jolted out of my nostalgia when I saw Cardinal Bernard Law among the red-robed princes of the church. How did it happen that Law landed such an exalted and cushy job as archpriest of the patriarchal Basilica of St. Mary Major in Rome?
For the evil he covered up as archbishop of Boston, Law should have been banished to the nave of a cold, dark chapel, on his knees, doing penance, for the rest of his days. Isn't that the way of the church?