I was raised a Roman Catholic and had the hat trick: Baptized, Communioned, Confirmed. Didn't manage to check off the Married box because I incorrectly answered the chaplain's quiz in Germany: "Is your intended a Catholic?" 'No, Father.' "Are you thinking of converting her?" 'Why? She already operates on 220 volts.'
How surprised would I be meeting The Lord at the Heavenly Ice Breaker to learn He was a Protestant or perhaps a Jew or a Moslem? And He says 'meh' when I ask about the One True Faith? Huh? Who and how could anyone forget the Crusades and so quickly?
If I am made in the image and likeness of God, as the Baltimore Catechism explained all those years ago, that would mean, God looks like me, unless He looks like you. And if you're a woman, that means He is a She. Oh dear, that could be awkward because here on earth the Church of Peter has hit a rough patch when speaking with women. Yankee Doodle Dandy that I am, I should also note that this happens mostly with American women (with apologies to Burton C.).
It's probably not political and possibly not personal. It might not even be biological. Or is it? I only mock because I can. The Vatican seems impervious to my scorn and indifferent to my joy. My best and worst days look exactly the same to it because it is so large a collective that to care about any one parishioner, except in the abstract, is nearly impossible. Unless or until we disagree with it and then you realize the first time round, there was no comedic relief.
Ask Sister Margaret Farley because she is an expert on what happens when you disagree with the Vatican (Hint: Nothing good). As someone who wouldn't know the Apocrypha from Acapulco (except for the teeny-tiny swim trunks) I've always wondered if Jesus came back today, would He find a home among the prostitutes and publicans as described by the New Testament or would He be hanging with His homefries in the Curia? More importantly, theologically speaking, would it be Red Box or NetFlix? Any other questions?
-bill kenny
Ramblings of a badly aged Baby Boomer who went from Rebel Without a Cause to Bozo Without a Clue in, seemingly, the same afternoon.
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