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THE BULLETIN OF THE CATHOLIC LAYMEN’S ASSOCIATION OF GEORGIA
OCTOBER 1, 1955.
FOUR
Site Bulletin
The Official Organ of the Catholic Laymen’s
Association of Georgia, Incorporated
JOHN MARKWALTER, Editor
416 Eighth Street, Augusta, Ga.
ASSOCIATION OFFICERS FOR 1954-1955
g, P. MEYER. Columbus President
IS. m. HEAGARTY, Waycross ___ Honorary Vice-President
l/TRS. L. E. MOCK, Albany Vice-President
DAMON J. SWANN, Atlanta V. P., Publicity
GEORGE GINGELL, Columbus V. P., Activities
RAWSQN HAVERTY, Atlanta V. P., Membership
JOHN M. BRENNAN, Savannah Secretary
JOHN T. BUCKLEY, Augusta Treasurer
JOHN MARKW ALTER, Augusta ——— Executive Secretary
MISS CECILE FERRY, Augusta Financial Secretary
ALVIN M. McAULIFFE, Augusta Auditor
Ypl. XXXVI Saturday, October 1, 1955 No. 9.
Entered as second class matter at the Post Office, Monroe. Georgia,
and accepted for mailing at special rate of postage provided by para
graph (e) of section 34.40, Postal Laws and Regulations,
Member of N. C. W. C. News Service, the Catholic Press As
sociation of the United States, the Georgia Press Association,
and the National Editorial Association.
Published fortnightly by the Catholic Laymen’s Association of Geor
gia, Inc., with the Approbation of the Most Reverend Archbishop-
Bishop of Savannah-Atlanta, and of the Right Reverend Abbot
Ordinary of Belmont.
Hots Off To The Christophers
(REV. JOHN B. TOQMEY)
The Christopher movement celebrates its tenth birthday
this month! We rejoice in this anniversary and we congratu
late those who have been responsible for the success of this
movement. To Father James Keller, M. M„ the founder and
director of The Christophers, we say: “More power to you
and may God’s grace be with you always.”
We know of the indefatigable efforts of Father Keller in
promoting this cause which seeks to bring a consciousness of
God’s presence and His principles into all stratas of society.
Father Keller has taken Christ on his shoulders constantly
in his travels up and down the land, making addresses, and
bringing the Christopher message to the world through radio,
movies, and television. We shall always remember his re
markable speech at a convention in Savannah several years
ago, his own personal enthusiasm and sincerity, and the tre-
mendous impression he made on his audience at that time.
The most paradoxical feature of the Christopher move
ment in the minds of those who think in terms of organiza
tions is that it is completely devoid of any organizational
aspect. It is primarily an idea — a challenge to the individual
to recognize his duty and his opportunity to bring Christ into
secular society and especially into those fields which are
most influential in forming our modern society: education,
labor relations, government, literature, and entertainment.
Jhs approach is on the positive side; constructive action brings
{positive results. Its aim is to encourage everyone to use his
pod-given power to change the world for the better. There
|s no substitute for YOU!
Archbishop Cicognani
On September 23, the Apostolic Delegate to the United
States, Archbishop Amleto Cicognani, observed his fiftieth
anniversary in the priesthood. Twenty-two of these golden
years have been devoted to the careful and conscientious
pursuance of his duties as representative of the. Holy See in
.this country.
The Catholic population of America owes a debt of grati
tude to Archbishop Cicognani for his tireless work on behalf
Of the Church. The Bulletin and the Catholic Laymen’s As
sociation joins with the clergy, religious, and laity of the
Diocese of Savannah-Atlanta in congratulating him on this
Anniversary and in praying that Our Lord will spare him
)many more years in the priesthood and at the Delegation in
Washington.
(The End Of The Affair
We do not presume any omniscience nor do we indulge
in the art of fortune telling. But we do recall writing on
June 25 of this year that “The day will come When Peron will
lie in dust beside Evita, but the Church will live on stronger
than ever.”
In his headlong flight from Argentina, it is not likely
that Peron even took a last look at E vita’s grave, but at least
he is gone—and we hope for good. And the Church lives on
t=-g.s always.
On Arriving In Israel
THIS WORLD OF OURS
(By Richard Pallee)
JERUSALEM—The run from
Amman to Jerusalem is about
two and a half hours, straight
through the Dead Sea valley via
Jericho. This sun baked, sterile
countryside is so
[rich in history
and so thick
iwith Biblical as
sociations that
js car c e 1 y
a square foot
can be said to
be without
its significance
in our religious
tradition.
Jordanian Jerusalem is pro
foundly, vehemently, even rau
cously Arab, as anyone who
listens to the blare of' Arabic
music for hours on end over the
loud speakers can attest.. The city
outside the walls partakes of
the twentieth century. This is
strikingly true of the splendid
new Ambassador Hotel which,
aside from a maitre d’hotel in
white robe and tarbush, might
be located in Richmond or Min
neapolis. The old city is just
what the seeker after the exotic
wants: narrow, thronged streets,
covered alleyways, and the
hodgepodge of costumes and gar
ments that makes for about as
picturesque a sight as one is
likely to find anywhere.
I was prepared for over-com
mercialization of the Holy Places
but, fortunately, in the late sum
mer the tourist crowds seem to
have thinned out and will not
appear again in gaping, hordes
until Christmas rolls around.
CROSSING THE LINE
In the week I spent in Arab
Jerusalem, as it is commonly cal
led, I hustled about to make all
the arrangements for crossing
over into Israel. This takes a
bit of doing. One must get his
exit permit, then apply at the
American consulate for authori
zation to cross the No Man’s
Land that divides the city in two
parts.
A day, the precise hour, is fix
ed. Once the papers come
through—in my case the con
sulate got them 15 minutes be
fore my hour was due—• the
traveler rushes to the Mandal-
baum Gate—not a gate at all
and, apparently, having nothing
to do with anyone named Man-
dalbaum—and proceeds to cross
the line. In Jerusalem, with be
coming delicacy, the person con
templating entering Israel is
always asked if he plans to
“cross over.”
Lugging my handbags and
portable typewriter, I got
through the Jordanian authori
ties and proceeded to walk the
couple of hundred yards to a
shack that housed the Israelis.
Here I was met by a husky
young man, who looked like
something straight out of the
British Ninth Army, and was
amiably welcomed to Israel. Mr.
Haim Zohar of the Press and
Information Department of the
Israel government was on hand
and announced that everything
was in order for the entry and
short .trip by car to the center
of the city. v
KIND OF TRANSMIGRATION
Ne Man’s Land is a bleak
strip of abondoned territory with
ruined buildings, rusty barbed
wire and the usual rubble that
lies about after battles have
been fought. Pockmarked build
ings and gaping windows make
it a fairly dismal sort of spect
acle.
Once on the way to the new
Jerusalem, all of this changes
quickly. The passage from one
part of the city to the other is a
kind of transmigration, a meta
morphosis in time and atmo
sphere so startling as to be in
credible. Arab Jerusalem is the
Middle East as it ought to be; Is
raeli Jerusalem is a buzzing,
modern urban center in which
there is scarcely a note of the
Orient save in a very limited
number of its streets and quart
ers.
The first impression of Israel
is that it is Western—pugnaci
ously, aggressively, blatantly
Western in every aspect of its
life. The national garb seems to
be khaki shorts and open shirts.
The tempo of life is comparable
to any busy American city. The
external aspect of things, if one
could remove the street signs
in Hebrew, is of any communi
ty in any part of the world ex
cept the eastern Meditei’ranean.
REASONABLY GOOD
FACSIMILE
To be sure, the visitor is im
pressed at once that in this na
tion, which is seven years old
politically and five thousand
years old historically, there is
the most disconcerting medley
of human types and races. Some
how or other, Israel has man
aged in a vei'y short space of
time to mold its population until
each citizen is a reasonably good
facsimile of every other citizen.
The Jew from Warsaw, Minsk,
Pinsk, Kaunas, Berlin or Vien
na is not easily distinguishable
from his fellow countryman
from Instanbul, Tanger or Bos
ton, save in the darkness of
complexion. The dress is the
same, the sense of urgency and
drive alike, and the general de
meanor makes them as alike as
the proverbial peas in the same
pod. The Lebanon was western
with French overtones; Israel is
westei'n all down the line. During
the weeks in the country I dis
covered that this.first and there
fore possibly superficial impres
sion was largely true.
It is the more remarkable that
a larger and larger proportion of
Israel’s people are of non-Euro
pean origin: Yemenites and Ira-
quis, Egyptian Jews and those
fi’om Tunis and the rest of North
Africa. When one begins to get
the feel of the place, the varia
tions become clearer. On my first
day in the country, I did not get
things in focus at once. In the
general blur I might very easily
have landed in some beach spot
in Florida by mistake.
Limited as one’s Hebrew way
may be on arrival; one quickly
acquires the use of the ever
present and constantly used
Shalom for greeting and on tak
ing leave. From the Eden Hotel
in downtown Jerusalem, I be
gan to try to bring some order
into the confusion of appoint
ments and visits that had been
proposed to me. With all respect,
I would add that if one falls into
the hands of the Israeli authori
ties to be shown around, he will
have precious little time for
solitary meditation dufring his
sojourn in the country.
1
"HE backdrop
By CHARLES LUCEY
WHAT'S ALL THIS COMMOTION?
In Saroyan’s “Time of Your
Life” there is a character, a
colossal liar, who claims to have
been everywhere and seen ev
erything, He spins an inci'edible
tale of his part in the Toledo
hui’ricane of 1891. His listener
proves there was no hurricane in
Toledo in 1891. The unabashed
one doesn’t pause a second.
Blandly, he demands: “Then
what in the name of heavens
was all that commotion?”
It is hard to be sure in this
early autumn of 1955 what is all
this commotion that looks like
peace. Bulganin and Kruschev
give garden parties, Molotov
stops eating babies and becomes
the genial old soul who takes
them boating in the park in
stead. American newsmen in
dozens are given visas for Rus
sian visits for the first time in
years. Farm groups exchange
visits and we get ready for a
presentation of American theater
in Moscow. Suddenly the class
magazines are full of advertise
ments practically making it a
patriotic duty to drink vodka.
A BREATHING SPELL
It isn’t all peace in the world
this autumn, of course. In Ar
gentina Peron set out to crush
the Catholic Church—and with
remarkably little protest from
the libertarians and moral par
agons around the woi'ld who or
dinarily rise quickly to the
breast-beating about civil and
religious rights. There’s a lot of
cold butchery of human beings
in Morocco. Every so often a
score or so are plugged dead
with lead in the sands of the
Gaza strip. But with the Rus
sians, mostly smiles.
In Washington, since even be
fore Geneva, our State Depart
ment and the intelligence serv
ices have been in a considerable
pother to try to figure out what
it all means. After miich debate
the conclusion for the momeixt
seems to be that the Soviets do
indeed want at least a breathing
spell—that they want to ease up
on the tx-emendous arms burden
and strengthen their internal
economy.
A SHORT-HAUL BREATHER
Yet Washington tends to play
it both ways. President Eisen
hower and Mr. Dulles in state
ments and speeches lay much
emphasis on the fact that, so far,
Geneva isn’t much more than
words and maybe, pretty soon,
the Soviets should prove by ac
tions that they mean what they
have been saying. But on the
other hand, driving for a balanc
ed budget and maybe for what
it hopes could be a fine tax cut
as vote-bait in an election year,
the Administration talks of cut
ting back another couple billion
dollars in defense spending.
Our strategists figured out,
long before Mr. Eisenhower went
to the summit meeting, that
Moscow stood to be the gi'eater
gainer from any shoi’t-haul
breather from the arms race
(Continued on Page 5)