Pope Francis. Today is his birthday, 83 years old. He seems like about the best Pope ever. Born in Argentina, in 1936. His real name is Jorge Mario Bergoglio. George. Plain old George.
Now, he is the head of the Catholic Church and sovereign of the Vatican City State. George took on a crappy job if you ask me. The Catholic Church is mired with trouble. Big trouble.
I didn’t know any of this growing up. I was baptized just four days after being shoved out of the womb. Holy smokes. It was warm, and dark, and comfortable in there. I had everything I needed and took a lot of really long naps. Then I was thrust into the chilly bright air, and four days later, these strangers are dipping my head in some marble bowl. Like day-old pita bread at a hummus party.
So yes. I grew up Catholic. This included daily Mass starting at a very young age. It was a little bit intimidating and scary to be completely honest. What with the bells ringing, the incense burning, the mention of the body and blood of Christ. I was always at the edge of my pew. And then there were the days when the whole deal would be in Latin. “Nabisco, dominisco, rubmybelly, addabelly, duko disco, monnnibbbscooooo.”
There was routine though, and I liked that. No big surprises. The nuns ran a very tight ship. Although, this could be physically, and mentally abusive at times. Seriously. Some of those nuns were pretty mean, and they took it out on little kids. Both of my brothers were altar boys. I’ve asked them if they were ever abused by any of the priests. Both of them answered no. I was relieved.
But the nuns and the priests were just on the rungs below bishops and archbishops. One step up from that was the Pope himself. And of course, the next floor higher was you-know-who. The Big Boss upstairs. One of the lessons I learned at the very start of things, was that “Cleanliness was next to Godliness.” I figured early on, the cleaner I kept things, the better my chances were of getting the green light from St. Peter. I feel this explains a great deal of my OCD behavior throughout my adult life. Now, maybe more than ever.
As a note. During those early years I had an alternate plan. I figured if St. Peter would not let me in through the Pearly Gates, I would sneak my way into heaven. I had seen the drawings. The golden metal bars in the fence around heaven were pretty far apart. I was a skinny kid. I was certain I could fit through, unnoticed.
Anyway, here lately the Catholic Church has stayed out of the news, somewhat. It seems to have calmed down slightly. I attribute this to Donald Trump. His daily antics keep every one on high alert, and all eyes on him.
I think, for the most part, Pope Francis has done some good things. Despite this, I only go to Mass when there is a funeral or a wedding. Some of the rituals have changed over the years, and the responses have evolved in a couple of places. I always trip in these spots during Mass, showing my age, and lack of frequent flyer miles.
Here’s the good thing though. If there is a God, I’m pretty sure he/she doesn’t care. That’s how my God would shape things up at least. They wouldn’t be bothered with things like the 15 Commandments. Yes, fifteen. Moses dropped one of the tablets on his way down the mountain. Anyway. God would be happy to welcome all people with love into his or her realm, no matter their color, creed, identity, or shoe size.
I’m pretty dang sure, if there is a God, that his only concern is our kindness. To one another, and to ourselves. That’s it.
And if I’m wrong? Well. I’m pretty skinny after all these years. And quick. I bet I can still sneak right through those golden bars.
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“I think God, in creating man, somewhat overestimated his ability.”
― Oscar Wilde
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“The function of prayer is not to influence God, but rather to change the nature of the one who prays.”
― Soren Kierkegaard
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“My religion consists of a humble admiration of the illimitable superior spirit who reveals himself in the slight details we are able to perceive with our frail and feeble mind.”
― Albert Einstein
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