My father was a writer. He wrote all of his life, inflicting upon many of us his novels, plays, articles, essays, and self-help books. Some were marvelous; some merely well-intentioned. But of all the things he wrote, his journal is his legacy: by turns wise and bewildering, it neared 1,100 type-written pages when he died in 2010. Although perused many times, this is the first time it will be read - cover to cover, page after page.
The sign of Church, the one identifying it as what it ought to be, what proclaims its source, aim and end is sanctity. Without this, it is not what it claimed to be. If there is no sanctity, there is no Church.
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