HABEMUS PAPAM: WE HAVE A POPE...! BY SANDRA HARRIS.
HABEMUS PAPAM: WE HAVE A POPE!
BY SANDRA
HARRIS. ©
‘I have to go to Rome, for an
audience with the Holy Father.’
‘Don’t worry, Len, they repeat those
shows all the time.’
‘An Audience with Lily Savage, that
was good as well.’
Bishop Len Brennan in conversation
with Father Dougal Maguire in sitcom FATHER TED.
I never normally post about religion, but it’s not every day
we elect a Pope to be the new head of the Catholic church, a church with
roughly 1.406 billion members worldwide.
The previous pope, Pope Francis, passed away on the
twenty-first of April this year, Easter Monday of all days. A nice day to die
if you’re a Pope, I think, because, in the Catholic Church, Easter is seen as
even more of an important celebration than Christmas. I found this fact very
strange when I was younger.
Easter is great and all that, but you don’t get presents at
Easter, only chocolate eggs, unlike Christmas, where you could technically come
in for all manner of goodies, including chocolate, in the form of
selection boxes, choccy Santas, net bags of gold coins and choccy Christmas tree
decorations.
That’s on top of other presents like dolls, books,
tricycles, tin whistles you only played for one day and then got bored of,
board games (the clue is in the word, people- bored…!) and other
treasures.
Plus, Easter only really lasts a day, two at the most, or two weeks
if you count the school holidays, but Christmas in Ireland now goes on for the
whole month of December and a good half of January as well, lol. Good
luck with trying to get anything done until nearly February, if you want to be
perfectly blunt about it.
Anyway, the new lad is called Robert Francis Prevost and he
comes from America. His Pope name is Leo the Fourteenth and he’s a mere
piddling sixty-nine years old, so his Papacy could conceivably last twenty
years, if he’s blessed enough to live so long.
I was watching Sky News as they, and millions of others
across the globe, were waiting for the new Pope to come out onto the balcony
overlooking St. Peter’s Square last week. I must admit, I caught some of the emotion that
was going around and I sniffled a bit when Robert Prevost came out, smiling and
looking warm and approachable.
Why are you crying? my son asked me. You don’t even go to Mass! Cheeky pup. No, I replied, I don’t go to Mass (or Confession!), but I was baptised a Catholic and I believe in God and I say my prayers every day. And that’s all true. I had the kind of convent school education where the catechism, as they called it, was drummed into you by the nuns, so you couldn’t not catch it.
My view of religion is probably still quite juvenile, though,
as a result of what the nuns taught me. God is a really old man with a really
long beard and a long white robe and sandals, exactly as portrayed in The
Simpsons, and Jesus is the same only younger.
The devil is a horrible person dressed in fire-engine red
with horns, cloven hooves and a pointy tail. If you’re a good person in life,
you’ll go to Heaven. If you’re bad, the fires of Hell await you for all
eternity. Yikes…
Heaven is a lovely big garden where you can hang out in perpetual sunshine with all
your loved ones and all the pets you lost in life. Chefs are on hand to cook
you anything you want to eat at any time of the day or night and none of the
televisions ever show advertisements.
Hell is a terrifying place with fires that rage day and
night, and devils jab you with red-hot pokers round the clock, even on your
tea-break. The milk for your cornflakes has been left out of the fridge all
night and is a bit lukewarm (yuk, torture!) and the Internet connection
is a tiny bit slow. (Even worse torture!)
Purgatory is the place where you go if you’re not quite good
enough to go to Heaven just yet, but neither are you evil enough for
Hell. So, you just have to wait a few thousand years in Purgatory, which I’ve
always pictured as a drab-looking waiting-room with no TV or radio, no phones
allowed and only the most boring, dog-eared and out-of-date magazines on the
table to pass the time. Accountant’s Monthly and the like.
On the other hand, childish as these beliefs and ideas might
sound, I think my values are decent enough. Treat others the way you’d like to be
treated, and judge not lest ye be judged. I have terrible trouble with
that last one. I’m always judging people.
Should she be wearing that belly top with her weight?
I’d never let my kids run wild like that.
That comb-over isn’t fooling anyone!
Those kids shouldn’t be eating those sweets. Their
mother’s to blame.
What do they think they look like in those matching shorts and
T-shirts?
He smokes how many ciggies a day? No wonder he has lung
problems!
What a
I’m working on it, though, because I’m absolutely terrified
of the ‘lest ye be judged’ part. I could see God being very strict about
that part of the dictum. I could really see me being called out on my
judgy-ness on the ominously titled Judgement Day, on which only the Lord,
fairly or unfairly, is entitled to judge. I only hope I have time left to
change my ways…
Anyway, that’s me. Now, what about the new Pope’s thinking on
current affairs? Well, he was in favour of COVID-19 vaccines and he supported
George Floyd and the Black Lives Matter protesters. He’s not too keen on
President Trump’s immigration policies and generally advocates kindness and
compassion for migrants and the poor.
He opposed gender ideology being included in the school
curriculum in Peru, where he spent time as an Augustinian missionary, because
he thought it promoted ‘genders that don’t exist.’ This was back in 2016, so I
don’t know if he’s changed his mind on the subject since then. I ain’t saying
nothing. I’ve gotten in trouble that way before, shooting my big fat mouth off.
He also seems to oppose abortion, the death penalty,
euthanasia, the Russian invasion of Ukraine, homosexuality and women priests. A
few people are probably going to have a problem with some of his views, so it’ll
be interesting to see how things pan out during his reign. I wish him the best of
luck with it all, anyway, and a long and fruitful Papacy.
I’m off now to spy on the neighbours. Yer one next door has a fella coming round in the mornings while her bloke’s out at work, and I don’t think he’s teaching her to hang wallpaper, if you catch my drift, plus her young lad’s almost certainly growing hash on their balcony. Oh no, wait, the judging…
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