More on John Paul II later.
I was born and raised within the onerous clutch of my mother's deep devotion to the Roman Catholic Church. Her Irish/Italian lineage had, of course, prepared her for the responsibility of assuring her own offspring would -- as she had -- accept without question the faith-based truths that there could be something called the Holy Trinity, the three persons in one thing -- God, Jesus Christ and the Holy Ghost; that the mother of God was a virgin (and throughout her life remained a virgin), even though it seems, Jesus Christ -- who, of course, was also God -- is reputed to have had a brother named James.
Yes, no argument with the concept of faith. Not many religions could endure without the blind acceptance of particular truths based soley on faith and pretty much faith alone. Faith is surely the elixir that makes religion palpable; believable. Without it, without faith, could anyone really understand the three persons in one thing?
It was Tertullian (second or third century convert to Christianity) who observed that, "The blood of the martyrs is the seed of the church."
I remember, as a boy, being absolutely infatuated with a picture in my mother's bible which depicted the suffering of the martyr Saint Sebastian who had been impaled with more than a few arrows because of his staunch faith in the teachings of Jesus Christ. Saint Sebastian was depicted as a beautiful young man in a flimsy loincloth who had been tied to a tree and, in the picture in my mother's bible, bled from the holes where seven or eight arrows had been shot into his body. Saint Sebastian apparently survived the arrows and went on to spread, what else?, the faith.
I fell in love with Saint Sebastian or, at least, the representation of Saint Sebastian in my mother's bible. And, this was probably before my first communion which means, at six or seven years old, I was pretty sure I liked guys, especially Saint Sebastian who was ready and willing to give his life for the Church -- in a loincloth, no less -- or, really, to give his life for the teachings of Jesus Christ. It was, of course, those teaching that, as the story goes, led to the establishment of the one, true faith, which was Roman Catholicism, and which -- upon this rock I will build my Church (Saint Peter) --ended up in Rome. Yes, for a time I even wanted to become a priest; a Franciscan. I was infatuated -- at eight or nine years of age -- with the brown cassock and the rope around the waist with three knots tie in it which hung down from the waist. I really wanted to wear that getup.
Well, my mother's devotion, her faith in the Roman Catholic Church became more and more pronounced and, perhaps, mystical after my father died. She became enamored with the strange and somewhat weird stigmata of the intensely faithful which is that phenomenon where folks begin to bleed from the palms of their hands or the middle of their feet -- the places where the nails were inserted in Jesus Christ's body to secure him to the cross.
I remember one Christmas mother even provided most of the family with 3D representations of Jesus wearing His crown of thorns. Every time you'd walk in front of the the picture, Jesus would open and close his eyes. Freaky.
Mother did manage -- in spite of my father's indifference to religion, any religion -- to have all her children baptized, receive First Communion and be Confirmed within the Roman Catholic Church. That was a great point of pride with her. She worked very hard to point us in the right direction; to hopefully assure our ultimate salvation.
The last time I actually sat through a mass was probably in 1973, in Virginia Beach, Virginia where I and my best Army buddy, Bob Stein, had Easter dinner and, after finding a charming little Catholic Church about to begin services, we actually stepped in and participated.
Well, to the point: The predecessor to John Paul I and John Paul II was Pope John XXIII who was, as I recall him, a rotund, smiling, loving, caring visage of a Church not so much infested with the stern and uncompromising precepts of the current regime which came of age under Pope John Paul II. No, the Papacy of John XXIII was, um, forgiving, loving, accepting. John XXIII reformed the Roman Catholic Church in such a way that had not been seen in probably a millenium; he brought the church into the twentieth century.
Back to John Paul II.
One wonders if John Paul II ever considered the consequences of his unbending insistence that even rubbers, prophylactics are anti-life, anti-Church, anti-His, John Paul's, supposed infallibility ? You non-Catholics do understand that all Popes are infallible; that they, given their direct dial connection with the almighty, are absolutely incapable of making an erroneous decision upon this earth.
Yes, while John Paul II was enriching his image as such a charming crusader for human rights throughout the world, did he ever give thought to the immense suffering caused by AIDS within sub-Saharan Africa where, yes, the use of prophylactics could/can make a difference? Did John Paul II ever once consider setting aside the notion that rubbers are anti-life and that it might make sense for him to ride down the dusty streets of Zimbabwe and toss Trojans from the Popemobile rather than simply blessing the folks by making the sign of the cross with his hand. What a statement that would have made!
Yes, and what about John Paul II and the Church's dirty little secret with regard to the pederasts within the priesthood and the Church's quiet protection of those deviates? I don't believe I've ever heard or read of anything John Paul II said or wrote or did which spoke directly to the molestation of innocent boys by the very real -- as opposed to the ideological -- evil of fucked-up priests within the holy womb of mother Church? No, what I recall was John Paul II's most public and telling action of bringing Cardinal Bernard F. Law from Boston (where he had ignored, botched, hidden the sexual abuses by priests against children and for which, Bostonians demanded his removal); yes, John Paul II brought Cardinal Bernard F. Law from Boston -- where tar and feathers were being prepared -- and gave him a promotion to archpriest of one of the four basilicas under Vatican direction in Rome, St. Mary Major Basilica.
John Paul II was a good man; a holy man.
I only hope his successor will see the world as it really is; will not be so determinably visible as a crusader for human rights, as determinably insistent that, even if the meek have achieved human rights, God's work demands that they also have the opportunity to live their lives beyond a life-expectancy of thirty-four years. Yes, and even if the young are newly valued by John Paul II's legacy, God's work demands that they, the young, not have to fear the priests as predators who, in fact and sadly, were protected and promoted under John Paul II's watch.
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