Poor God—He isn’t faring very well in American politics these days. The President recently mandated contraceptive insurance coverage, and the Roman Catholic Church rose up in arms, vociferously complaining that such an insurance policy would infringe on Catholic belief that contraception is contrary to divine will (never mind that a majority of American Catholics practice birth control). President Obama then offered a compromise for contraceptive coverage, but (as with most compromises) few are happy.

The tragic headline this week out of Honduras triggered a collective gasp from the world community. Authorities are not sure if the prison fire in Comayagua was sparked by an electrical short-circuit or whether inmate rioting might have been the cause. The grim reality is that fire broke out, and before prisoners could be unlocked from their cells at least 300 of them perished in the inferno. The nation of Honduras mourns. And we grieve their loss.

Would you like to know who in America receives the most Valentine’s Day cards every single year? Sweethearts, lovers? Mothers, fathers? Children, classmates? Pastors? (Oops—pardon that Freudian slip.) Who gets more Valentine’s cards than anybody else? Give up? Answer: teachers. It’s true—our beloved school teachers receive more cards than any other category of recipients. So all of you elementary education majors—look what you have to look forward to! Actually retailers look forward to Valentine’s Day, too.

The headline on page 1 of the sports section caught my eye. A piece written by Jim Litke, Associated Press columnist, tells the behind-the-scenes story of the firing of legendary Penn State Nittany Lions football coach Joe Paterno last November. With Paterno’s death from lung cancer this Sunday, the wounds the university has suffered since the child molestation charges against Jerry Sandusky, one of Paterno’s assistant coaches, and the subsequent Paterno firing have broken open all over again.

Anybody for a cruise in the Mediterranean? The capsizing of the massive luxury liner, the Costa Concordia (twice the size of the ill-fated Titanic), has galvanized the attention of the gaping world. According to some reports a mere 300 feet from shore, this luxurious $450 million floating city of 4200 passengers and crew struck a rocky outcropping in the reef off the island of Giglio, gashed a fatal hole in its hull, rolled to one side and began to sink. Only the snagged reef kept the vessel from sinking to the seabed 160 feet below.

On this weekend when the nation recalls the life and mission of Martin Luther King, Jr.—frail like every life, but focused like a laser on a mission towards the equality of all—it is appropriate for this community of faith to ponder that mission in the light of our own. Were Dr. King to join us around our communal table, what would be the conversation? In fact, let’s pull up another chair to the table and invite President Barack Obama to join in this table talk.

Look, I’m not suggesting that the just concluded Iowa caucuses and the upcoming New Hampshire primary are strategic pieces in some sort of apocalyptic end game. But I would invite you to ponder the power of the press and/or paid political ads. Even the talking heads within the beltway of the nation’s capital this past week have been chattering in amazement over the swift collapse of one candidate’s heretofore anticipated victory in Iowa’s caucuses.

The world in the West awakened on Monday to the news that while we slept the 69 year old recluse and quixotic leader of North Korea had succumbed to a heart attack. Kim Jong II was dead. The North Korean press dutifully reported that the “dear leader” died of “overwork” and “great mental and physical pain” accumulated from “dedicating his life to the people.” And I could not help but wonder how it will be with the North Korean people Kim Jong II left behind.

A few weeks ago Charles Schultz’s syndicated Peanuts cartoon went apocalyptic.

Don’t you love the Mike Water’s “Joyful ‘toon” cartoon Greg Offenback came across this week? Talk about one sophisticated sheep! Look at him (or is it, her). Catching some rays on his outdoor recliner and reading the latest “Sheep Digest” magazine—Mr.