Me and the Pope

"Every successful organization needs one Son-of-a-bitch," Father Vernon Robertson explained as we had coffee and hot April Crisp with raisins.  "That's why we have the Pope."

"What?"

'The Pope keeps the Catholic Church in line with all of the bad stuff. No birth control! Women can't be Priests! Stuff like that."

"Right," I said not knowing what else to say.

"The problem with you Southern Baptists," he continued with his impish grin," is there are a hundred thousand Sons-of-bitches all fighting to be the one."

I had no counter argument.

"Don't worry about it Mike," he pressed forward.

"We're just a small kink in the chain of church history anyway."

"I think we're more than that," I mustered.

"Not really," he went on. "I don't much like this Pope we have now. He won't last. None of them ever do. Now the church ... it will last."

"In spite of Son-of-bitches?"

"Exactly!"

The conversation ended up being a major influence on my views of religion. Vernon was my friend, a Catholic Priest at St. Martin of Tours is Louisville, Kentucky where I was a Baptist minister, and we were both founding members of the St. Jude's Guild which was the community's first response to the AIDS crisis.

Since then, Vernon has passed away, I've long left employment as a Professional Christian and the only time I have anything to do with organized religion is in a bar.

Nevertheless I remain a member of the clergy, albeit a not very conventional one. Mostly people just want to talk with me sometimes when they are struggling with something or another. That's my ministry, along with an occasional wedding or funeral. It's pretty easy to manage.

I like it better this way and find it every bit as holy as anything else I did.

Plus, there's nowhere near as many Sons-of-bitches in my life.