Q. I have long been curious as to the courses in theology that a seminarian is required to study prior to ordination. Is there any set sequence, or does the seminary course of studies entail so-called "electives"? And why is it that some seminarians seem to go through more years of study than others?

"The Time Travel Society will hold its annual meeting three years ago." This anachronistic bit of humor may be viewed as a tribute to H. G. Wells’s fabled time machine. Nevertheless, we do possess a technology that has much in common with time travel. It is the modern television set, partnered, as it is, with the handheld remote that can carry us, at the touch of a button, from one age to another. Television has converted time into space, an accomplishment that would have delighted Albert Einstein.

It is, arguably, the most common question that Catholic parents ask one another: How do you get your kids to go to church?

It’s the wrong question.

We should be asking, "How can I get my kids to fall in love with Jesus?"

The former is just a body in the pew. The latter is a relationship that lasts into eternity.

Historical datings

As Mass ended, my friend and I followed the crowd into the warm sunshine. We greeted the priest, then proceeded to the shade of a nearby tree to chat.

"You know what bugs me?" my friend Annie complained, seemingly out of nowhere. "Why do all of our clergy have to be celibate? How can they possibly understand married life, or children, or the workplace, when all they know is celibacy?" It was clear that she had been stewing about this matter for a while.

It was early in the morning and I was downloading the day’s papers on my iPad, waiting for my connecting train into the city, when I smelled something so familiar and so frightening that it brought me back 50 years and revived my childhood fears.

It was the nauseating smell of stale booze on someone’s breath, and it reminded me of those many nights when my father came home from work drunk, his breath reeking of whiskey. Melrose, Jack Daniels, Canadian Club or J&B – it could have been top-shelf whiskey or cheap whiskey. It didn’t matter, the effect was the same.

The center of the Sistine Chapel depicts an image that has been overused to the point of becoming a cliché. Nonetheless, its meaning is still worth revisiting, for it encapsulates the central drama between God and man. An energetic God-the-Creator thrusts his hand toward a reclining Adam. His intended beneficiary, however, recoils. His hand droops. His body language spells "retreat." Simply stated, he does not stretch.

If a tree crashes to the ground in the midst of a forest, does it make any sound?

The question is being repeated in a current TV commercial for a popular insurance company. But before insurance was "invented," this question challenged the minds of philosophers everywhere.

Q. I am reading about a new statue of Pope John Paul II recently unveiled in Rome. The statue, according to The New York Times (26 May), has stirred up a debate among some Romans about its artistic worth. The reporter suggests that this disagreement is especially regrettable because John Paul "forged an intimate relationship with Rome, where, during the 26 years of his papacy, he also held the title Bishop of Rome." Could it be that the reporter did not realize that the Pope – any Pope – is always Bishop of Rome?