A return to faith

When did I begin to lose my faith in the Catholic Church? I believe it dates back to 1974, the first time I visited Rome. We were tourists going to see the Pope in the auditorium built for that purpose. We had a tourist guide and he asked us for money to get tickets. “I will get us tickets for the back,” the guide said. But some of my friends wanted to get as close to the Pope as possible. “First I will get tickets for the back. Then I will ask for more money and we will move closer to the front.”

“You will bribe the Swiss guards?” I asked, incredulous. The guide put his finger to his lips and made a low shushing sign, then he winked. So first the ushers showed us to the very back then later somebody came and showed us to the beginning of the middle. Already I became unhappy.

Then the voice came over the mike in many languages. It said, “Please ring out the rosaries you want the Pope to bless.” I did not know that one could do that. I only had my rosary with me while the others in the hall had piles in their hands. I frowned, never expected this kind of commercialism when visiting the Pope. To me then the Pope was almost sacred, the main representative of God on Earth. He was infallible. You had to be treated with reverence if you were infallible.

Remember, this was 1974. On the pop music front these were the days of Mick Jagger and his screaming fans. On the Catholic front in Rome these were the days of Pope Paul VI and his screaming nuns. He was carried into the auditorium on a dais and all the nuns and students began to scream hysterically, tears streaming down their faces. “Viva il Papa!” They screamed or they just screamed wildly. It sounded like a Mick Jagger concert but the fans were wearing nun’s costumes. That also unbalanced me. I could not imagine the nuns I knew screaming that hysterically. But then I had never seen them with the Pope. Would being with the Pope reduce them to this?

I mean, it was difficult for me to accept. I expected a solemn ceremony in a quiet place. I expected reverence. But that wasn’t the worst of it. The people carrying the Pope reached the stage. He got down from his dais, sat down on his throne, but extended his feet upward. He was wearing embroidered shoes and he would not put them on the red carpet that covered the floor. Instead his legs were extended to the front until a little pageboy came bearing a red velvet cushion. He put this on the floor. The Pope then put his feet on the red velvet cushion.

That really did it for me. I whispered to my neighbor, “Jesus walked in the desert in sandals or maybe even barefoot. How can the Pope refuse to put his feet on the ground? I don’t think this is right.”

“It’s the pomp and pageantry of the Catholic Church,” she whispered back, smiling. But I was frowning. It was a deep frown. It stayed through the single blessing of the Pope delivered in a thousand languages.

On the way back to the hotel I asked our guide, “Do the Italians like this Pope?”

“Not the way we liked Pope John XXIII. That one walked everywhere and at all hours. He was the walking Pope. We called him Johnny Walker.” He and I laughed together. “He also was never carried in. He was too heavy so he walked in. He was more a Pope for the people.”

“I liked him much more than any other Pope,” I said. “Yes, he was closer to the people.”

I did not like what I saw of the Catholic Church in 1974 and that got less and less comfortable. In 1977, attempting to get a marriage annulment, I failed. Then one day an ecclesiastical lawyer from Rome offered to get me one for $15,000. I thought about that and refused. I said, “If I have to buy my annulment, I think I prefer to take my chances and talk to God about it when the time comes.” So I lost my faith in the Catholic Church but not in God. God and I converse daily. Sometimes we joke and laugh. We have fun together and that is fine with me.

But now we have Pope Francis, a Jesuit, an innovative thinker and a people’s pope. He doesn’t like the pomp and pageantry of the Catholic Church. He loves the poor and I’m sure thinks the church should exist for them, find a way to make the rich people’s money be shared by the poor. Maybe he too realizes that his church has fallen by the wayside as evidenced by the number of Christians in the world. Maybe they will update their laws and give the nuns equality. I mean, if you feel like a wife tortured in a Catholic marriage can you imagine how the nuns must feel? They are totally unequal to the priests. Something must be done about that.

As I watch the new Pope’s coverage on TV, I cannot help but think  — maybe there is hope. Maybe this man can turn his taciturn church into a church for the people, for all people. Then maybe even I might be saved the Catholic way.