Approaching Change and Fear: Thoughts on Our New Pope

This post has been slowly forming in my head these past few days, and yet, to be honest, I have no idea what I'm going to say.  Like many of you, I've found a strangeness and difficulty as I've fumbled through Holy Week this year, and I best work through my thoughts by writing them out.  Hopefully I won't offend everyone too horribly.  Remember, I'm just working through this too, in my own way.  Now I can't guarantee you'll get anything worthwhile out of them, but I guess that's a risk with any blog post.  So... here goes...

When I was little, my mom would warn me about changes to my schedule in the upcoming week, because apparently something like "Hey, let's go to the bank today!" on such short notice, would send my little world spinning off kilter.  It was much easier to say: "We're going to the bank tomorrow morning!" which for some reason was not upsetting, since I had time to process and think about the change.  So apparently my innate "not a huge fan of change" traits stretch way, way back.

Of course, we had quite a lot of warning that change was coming, when Pope Emeritus Benedict XVI (that's a mouthful, but it's what he officially is called right?  Plain ol' Benedict just doesn't quite seem respectful enough...) announced that he was abdicating and I rushed around the house talking about it to anyone who would listen (namely Paul, when he was home and the Four Year Old, when he wasn't).  I wasn't upset or anxious.  Just sorrowful.  It was something we'd known would likely happen soon, as he appeared ever more frail in each new image broadcast over the media... but I hadn't wanted it to happen just yet.

Give us a little longer, I wished.  Eight years wasn't enough (funny how with one leader it goes by like that and with others it can drag on.  and on.  and on.).

Still, I was excited for the conclave and held my breath alongside the rest of the world to see who would step out onto the balcony and celebrate in our little toy cluttered living room in the middle of the day as we waited to receive the new Pope's blessing.

I'll admit, I felt a catch in my throat when they said that he was a Jesuit.  I thought back to our time while Paul was in a Jesuit theology program and had to rally my flagging enthusiasm by rushing over to the computer the first chance I had and reading about our brave new leader, the man chosen by the College of Cardinals to be our next Pope.  And what I read reassured me greatly.

In the days that followed I found myself surprised that I wasn't instantly entirely joyous about the announcement of our new pontiff.  I don't know why I'd expected the sadness of missing our last Pope to completely disappear, but I guess in hindsight, I did.

"And had I instantly felt affection for Benedict?" I found myself asking (because in my thoughts he is just plain Benedict).  I remember feeling defensive of him very early in my journey towards Catholicism, but I couldn't remember that moment when I actually became emotionally invested in this man who was to listen for the voice of the Holy Spirit and guide the Church through our darkened world.

Then the attacks started, and of course, they didn't come from the quarter that I expected.  This is scary, I've been told.  He's changing everything, I hear.  Wait, there were puppets?  I read the words, not clicking on the link.  It's hard not to feel anxious when it seems that quite a few people who you generally relate well with are all panicking.

But I've been determined.  "Let nothing alarm you."  I've repeated in my head.  It is Holy Week.  The devil would love to see us up in arms.  He would love to have us at one another's throats.  And what do we know really?  What have we seen from this gentle man?  His affection for his brothers and sisters?  His compassion for the poor? His simplicity?

I watch him on the news and I find myself annoyed, not by his beautiful actions of loving kindness, but at the reporters' analysis.  I feel the sting of their condescending comparison to the retired Pope who I still feel such affection for.   My heart aches.  But is that ache from anything that the Pope has actually done?  No, it isn't.

Watching CNN there were multiple references to the Pope's PR moves, as if the baby kissing, and wading into crowds and foot washing were just publicity stunts.  It shouldn't surprise us that the world would immediately suspect something of that sort.  But shouldn't we at the very, very, very least, give this man who is our shepherd the benefit of the doubt as to his motivations and accept that he is doing this because he loves God and expresses that love by loving the whole of God's creation?

I've been challenging every sad rebellious thought this week by reminding myself what the Pope has actually done and then my following it up by reminding myself that I'm Catholic and I'm not the Pope.

He is the Pope.  His personal style doesn't match my own.  But it doesn't have to.  I'm not the Holy Spirit.  And let me say it again:  He is the Pope.  He is the successor of Saint Peter.  And I'll say it again: I think that we should at the very, very least start out giving him the benefit of the doubt.

Does that mean that everything he does will be right or perfect?  Of course not.  He's a man. He's not speaking infallibly all the time, or even most of the time (or even ever for all that that has been used).  But he is the Pope.  And he deserves our respect.  More than that, I think he deserves that we listen and watch and try not to run around like a bunch of chickens with our heads cut off.

So let's take a deep breath.  Let's stop attacking each other.

My heart feels as if it's dropping into a bottomless pit, not because of Pope Francis' actions this week, but because how I've seen us talk to each other.  I've seen people attack the Pope.  I've seen others respond, calling anyone who's afraid of what's going on "Protestant."  And I recoil at that because, while I'm resisting the fear I've felt (remember, I'm not the biggest fan of change!), I can certainly understand why others around me are feeling it.

The devil is doing his work well as we approach Easter, sowing dissent during this time when our eyes should be fixed on the cross, and ultimately, the empty tomb that tells us that He is Risen!

If I'm honest, I have to admit that I am learning from Pope Francis already, in a painful, heart stretching sort of way (is growing ever comfortable?).  For as I've heard terms like lace-loving-Protestant used and thought "no, no, they're just afraid," I've begun to think more and more about those "Cafeteria Catholics" and have felt a greater compassion for what they might be afraid of these past years.

Yes, the truth is the truth.  It doesn't mean that I agree with them in the least on what is right and what is wrong.  But I think I understand a little more what it means to be afraid by someone who's practice of faith is so visibly different from our own, especially when they were raised in a time when many said "oh no, that's not a sin..." and twisted falsehoods until they almost looked like truth.

Let us all step back, in these last hours before the holiest day of the year, and be gentler with one another.  Let's give this man, who the College of Cardinals trusted enough to elect to lead us, the benefit of the doubt, rather than letting our thoughts run wild with "what I think" this act that he has done might mean.  And let us pray that God gives Pope Francis the strength to lift the heavy load that he has taken upon his shoulders, so that he may guide us through the years that are to come.  It cannot be easy to bear that responsibility, and let us not add to his burden by disparaging him, or indulging in anger.  It is nearly Easter, after all.  Christ has died for our sin.  We wake to find that he has defeated death and that his promise is that we are to be resurrected with him.  Let us turn aside from the anger and strife of this world and love with our whole hearts.  Let us strive that through his grace working in our lives , we might be made worthy of his sacrifice.

"That priest looks like Patrick!"

Yesterday I was stalking EWTN's live stream on Roku, after giving up completely on doing anything constructive during the day, other than repeatedly pointing out that we were "watching history" and happily viewing the goings on at the Vatican.  At least that was my plan for the morning.

When I turned on the program it was still a little over an hour away from the start of the coverage of the procession of the cardinals, and a dark haired young priest was reading the gospel and giving a homily. Sadie looked at Patrick then looked at the TV and announced:  "He looks like Patrick!"  She paused and looked back and forth between them again before adding:  "I mean, other than the hair.  His hair's different!"

Ah, yes, other than the hair.  Your brother is practically bald (although if it were a friar with a tonsure she might have been on to something, because he does kind of have a little ring of hair around his head that is just beginning to fill in).  And other than the thirty years some year difference in ages.  And the fact that Patrick is still too little to sit up.

"What do you think reminds you of Patrick?"  I finally asked when the internal giggling stopped.

"Jesus."  She said, very seriously, finally clarifying that it was because Patrick loves Jesus too.  Then she went back to playing with her dolls.

Poor Patrick is getting quite the religious education from his big sister.  She takes his little hand and makes him cross himself.  She's been trying to get him to say grace and the guardian angel prayer.

She's heard me say: "Can you say _____, Maggie?" to Mae enough times that she'll recite part of prayer and then say "Can you say, Angel of God, my guardian dear, Patrick?  Can you say it?" or something like that over and over again while he gazes at her adoringly, or looks at me like "can you please rescue me!  I've had enough!!!"

Now to go wait for the smoke... and the dishwasher repair man... and see whatever gems Sadie comes up with while we await the election of the new Pope!  

Tuesday: Waiting to Begin Waiting

I just found myself standing at the kitchen counter and chanting in my head "Tuesday, Tuesday, Tuesday!" over and over again.

At least it wasn't out loud.

If you haven't heard, the conclave begins in Tuesday.  And I feel a bit like a little kid who sees a gleam of Christmas off in the near future and is fidgety with excitement.

I've read and listened to so many really nice posts and articles and shows lately, by Catholics who are far more patient than I on this subject.  When I first heard the statement:  "The cardinals aren't in a rush..." I'll admit that my knee jerk reaction was "Why?!?!?!?!!"

Because I feel like I'm in a hurry, willing the time until that white smoke begins to rise above the roof of the Sistine Chapel to pass and be behind us as we wait with bated breath for the the answer to the question: "Who?"

That the cardinals aren't in a rush is a good thing, logically speaking.  They're prayerfully considering.  They're taking their time.  The date is set for the conclave now.  Then they'll vote and vote and vote until two thirds of them agree.

These days will rush by, while simultaneously feeling as if the hours are crawling while we're living them (for me at least).

Sadie's joined in my excitement, mainly because she heard me tell Paul that when we go food shopping this week I want to get a little something special to put aside to celebrate the announcement of the new Pope.  Cupcakes?  They both asked.  Can you figure out rice cupcakes?

I'll try.  Maybe "figuring out" rice cupcakes that don't rise nicely and then look like pudding can keep me busy in the coming days as we pray for the cardinals as they begin the process of choosing the next successor of Saint Peter.

Tuesday, Tuesday, Tuesday... I can hardly wait for it to arrive, so that we can all really begin waiting.

Musings on This Day and The Pope Stepping Down

First reaction to the news...

What a day.  Already.

The wind is whipping around the house outside.  Another storms on it's way if the weather man hasn't changed his mind since late last night.

And it looks like I have three babies, suddenly sick and showing various manifestations of the flu.  I know there's a good chance that I'm next because, because while I was asked three times during the combined seven days that I spent in the hospital if I wanted not just a flu shot, the pneumonia vaccine and a handful of others they don't normally give out, ultimately the vaccines were overruled by the doctors, over and over again, because I guess I'm considered to have compromised immunity.  Which doesn't bode well for not getting sick when I'm surrounded by sick little hooligans.

So I was already preparing for a long day with the babies while Paul was at school until late into the night.  And then I turned on my computer... and felt tears welling up.

My instinctive, reactionary first thought was that I just knew this day was going to be a bad one.  And that nothing could be worse than this (remember that's just my honest, knee jerk reaction, not how I logically think of what's going on).  Because if you haven't noticed, I started the day in a pessimistic sort of mood and it might take a few minutes more to wrestle it around into forced optimism.

from http://www.turnbacktogod.com/

Does anyone else feel like the rug has been pulled out from under them?  Or maybe like you've been socked in the stomach and feel tears stinging at the edges of your eyes.

I know, I know.

"It's all for the best."  

But I've heard that many times at various moments, all of which were very sad, and somehow it doesn't make it any less sad now, does it?

When I hear "it's all for the best" I think of the many times I heard it in the hospital last year in association with fetal abnormalities and so it's really better this way, which made me want to sock somebody in the nose.

I know that people mean well, but really... "It's all for the best" doesn't make very sad moments any easier, and I'm okay with doing away with the statement once and for all.

Say that we'll be alright because the Holy Spirit is guiding his Church through the trials and tribulations of the twenty first century... but let's not pretend that this isn't a sad moment for many of us.

Not that long ago (I think it was in the past month) we were watching something and the Pope walked across the screen, or maybe he was even just sitting and Paul said sadly that he didn't think he would be Pope much longer.  I think I half shushed him not to say something like that, irritated to even have such a thought introduced about our beloved B16.  Now it turns out that he was right.

Pope Benedict XVI is the only Pope I've ever known as a Catholic.  And I think he's been a pretty awesome one at that.  If he says he has a good reason to step down then he has a good reason to step down.

I'm still sad about it though.

I'll still be storming heaven, along with all the rest of you for our beloved Pope as he goes into retirement and for his successor who has yet to be elected.