Some of you, I'm sure, have been to Rome and have seen the great basilica of St. Peter on Vatican Hill in the midst of Vatican City. If you haven't been there, you've certainly seen pictures of that tremendous basilica, overpowering in its size and richness and the symbol of power that it gives forth. Perhaps you noticed if you were there that around the dome -- which is the most extraordinary feature of this church, a huge dome -- in very large letters are the words that Jesus says today in the gospel.

They're written in Latin: "Tu es Petrus, et super hanc petram aedificabo ecclesiam meam." I still know my Latin. It says, "You are Peter, and on this rock I will build my church." We've come to accept that, that it's Peter, now the successor of Peter, the pope, who has ultimate authority in the church, and especially since the first Vatican Council, which ended in the year 1870, so over 100 years ago, but still dominant in our church, we have ascribed to the pope, total power and authority in the church.

In the interest of full disclosure, as they say, I will admit my collusion with showmanship at the very beginning of this article: The fact is that I watched the opening night of the Democratic Convention from 6:00 p.m. to midnight. But I'm not sure what I saw. Was this a solemn civic event or a political variation of "Entertainment Tonight?"

On the Road to Peace by John Dear S.J.	Tuesday, August 26, 2008
	Vol. 2, No. 51

[Note: More excerpts from my autobiography, A Persistent Peace, just published by Loyola Press. Here, I tell about my 1985 experience in El Salvador. It was at the height of the U.S.-backed war there. Archbishop Oscar Romero and four church women had been assassinated already. I went to work with Jesuit Refugee Service.]

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The highlight of our first week was our visit to the Jesuit University of Central America, a graceful campus of palm trees, preened lawns, stucco buildings crowned with red-tile roofs, vast clusters of flowers -- a plot of Southern California dropped from heaven. There we met the renowned philosopher and theologian Fr. Ignacio Ellacuria, the university president.

By JOHN L. ALLEN JR.
Denver

As the Democratic National Convention opens in Denver, here’s an irony worth pondering: Perhaps the most disappointed group in America over the choice of a Roman Catholic as the party’s nominee for Vice-President may well be the country’s Catholic bishops.

That’s not necessarily any reflection on the personal merits of Delaware Senator Joseph Biden, but rather what kind of Catholic he is, and what that means for the American bishops between now and November 4 (and perhaps for four or eight years after that).

Few analysts so far seem to have noticed, but the crisis du jour in the Caucasus, this time focusing on the tiny breakaway Georgian province of South Ossetia, may be most remarkable for what it's not. For once in this volatile part of the world, religion does not appear to be a driving force in the conflict.

Hence the obvious, if largely unasked, question: If religion isn't the problem, can it be part of the solution?

The scripture readings today are very inspiring and also extraordinarily challenging.

When we look at the gospel lesson first of all, it's amazing, isn't it, the courage and the faith and the love of this woman? A Canaanite -- not only a Gentile, not a Jew, but also from the very people who were the first enemies of the Jewish people when they were freed from slavery in Egypt and came into the promised land. This is a Canaanite. They'd been hostile to the Jews for centuries, yet she has the courage to come forward, to cry after Jesus. This is a woman in a very patriarchal society. According to the custom, she should not have been in the street by herself. She should not approach a man as she did. But her love for her daughter was so strong and she wanted so much to get what was good for her daughter, that she had the courage to push beyond the boundaries that were supposed to hold her back.