If religion was a sport, I’d play on the defense. I believe in a higher power, in my case, I’m down with most of the tenets taught in the Roman Catholic Church into which I was baptized, confirmed and educated by brothers, sisters, priests, and a couple of memorable lay teachers. Like the late Eugene Paganelli, who in citing an example of a homogenous mixture in my high school chemistry class, went with scotch and water. I can’t remember all the symbols, but I can pour you a good chemical mixture any Saturday night.

Then there was brother, Ed smith, who last I heard was living somewhere in northern California. He was a terrific English teacher, who ridiculed me at a parent teacher conference for wanting to be a broadcaster, telling my parents I have a New York accent and a sophomoric approach to the written word.

Later, I got a letter addressed to me at CBS News from father Ed. It simply said. Wrong on both counts. Have a great career.

The pope may be infallible, but the rest of us face all kinds of challenges in daily life. Even those who wear the cloth. Sometimes especially those who wear the cloth. No, I’ve never had a perfect attendance record at any church, never had any desire to pursue a vocation, and to tell you the truth, I’m more comfortable hanging around known sinners than parishioners who think they’re in the hot lane to canonization….

Tomes have been written and wars fought over religion. To me it’s pretty simple. The world happened.  Look at the snow capped Sierra some morning heading east on 50. Watch a baby take her first steps. Fly over the Grand Canyon and marvel at how that came to pass and by the way, how are 200 of us actually flying over it in an aluminum cylinder at 500 miles per hour?

I also believe because I’ve seen them. That miracles happen, and that prayer fuels them. You don’t always get the miracle you want. Often you get what you need. Like the strength to handle any of assorted life tragedies, like death, divorce, or a challenging illness or disability.