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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)