One of the glorious things about Face Book is that you can have wonderful international conversations in real time. Yesterday my daughter Chelsea who is in Italy and I instant messaged one another for catching one another up on things. She spent a couple of weeks with her fiancée Sam in London before making her way to Rome and today she lands in Cortona in northern Italy. She and Sam will meet when they can and dance across Europe.
The other day Chelsea posted on my Face Book page “Never saw the Pope. He apparently knew I was coming to confront him and was afraid. I tried to communicate with him telepathically but they must have some sort of block against that in the Vatican. He never admitted to rigging the Father-Daughter dance.”
Both Kristen and Chelsea attended St. Vincent’s Academy a Catholic girl’s school in Savannah. Neither are Catholic and when they’re asked to describe their religious beliefs they normally look lost for a while before answering, “You know who my Dad is right?”
They both made good grades for the most part except in religion class.
“What do you mean God can’t be a woman?” Kristen fired at the Priest one day. “Of course God can be a woman. It’s God for God’s sake! God can be anything God wants!”
The Priest called me that day to tell me how disruptive Kristen had been in class. After hearing him out I asked, “Father, do you have a point?”
It was like this for both as they fought their way through parochial education as my daughters.
The greatest sacrilege however was the St. Vincent’s annual Father/Daughter dance. I tore up the dance floor with my girls for eight years. We never won. Suspiciously it was always a Catholic that won. It only took us a couple of years to figure out religious discrimination.
So our dances grew wilder and better! We were determined to show them our liberal Protestant moves. I’d throw my girls all over the dance floor often knocking other Fathers and Daughters on their butts. Sister Pat, the academy’s Dictator, grew even more obstinate as she chose Catholic winner and Catholic winner.
Once Chelsea and I were diving in Key Largo, when she apologized because we’d never won the Father/Daughter dance competition though we were obviously the best on the floor. I explained religious persecution to her and she asked me why it happened.
“I dunno,” I answered, “Let’s call the Pope and ask him.”
So we dialed 1-800-VATICAN on my cell phone and it rang and rang but no one answered. Being the Pope and all I assume he knew why we were calling and didn’t want any part of owning up to it.
Hence Chelsea’s post when she visited the Vatican earlier this week determined to find the rascal who allows religious discrimination on the dance floor.
So I had to explain to my daughters that the world is not always just. Especially when it comes to religion! There is judgment of the worst kind. People are discriminated against because they are different. If you don’t fall into line you can get crucified.
But my daughters believe in truth. And the truth will set you free. And we kicked their asses on the dance floor.
And the Pope knows it!
