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April 08, 2005

Serenity Through Simple-Mindedness

Pointed out by reader Corsair, and brought to you in this story from the Washington Post:

They say a good man was to be buried this morning, a pure, peaceful man, a man on fire with the Holy Spirit.

People lined up for miles to mourn the loss of Pope John Paul II, sending thousands of prayers, hoping he is up there.

Except there is no "up there" up there. We've sent airplanes and rockets and satellites and telescopes and dogs and monkeys; to date, not a one of them has seen any pearly gates through which Jesus might have ascended one day a long time ago in a galaxy far, far away.

Some say he is a saint or should be a saint. Surely in heaven, but they are praying for him anyway, because he needs prayers until there is certainty he has arrived.

Certainty? Uh, is a bell going to ring when John Paul gets his little flappy angel wings or something?

To prove he is indeed up there, people have gone in search of good, of hope, searching for an ease in the suffering.

Searching for miracles.

Wait, so good, hope, and ease of suffering are all dependent on whether or not the Pope has made his way into Heaven? So what the hell have I been giving money to charity for all these years? I feel like a sucker. Sigh.

Not big miracles like the parting of the Red Sea, the turning of water into wine, the feeding of a multitude with five loaves and two fishes.

Translation: not real miracles. Not stuff that we'd actually be at a loss to explain through reason. Nothing impressive or fancy.

But inexplicable coincidences, like when you need $29 and you look in that old coat and pull out three $10 bills.

Conveniently forgetting all the times you thought you had left a fiver in your pocket only to find it empty.

Like when you hear the news about the pope's passing and you and your husband both start crying at exactly the same time.

Conveniently forgetting that people, even married people, tend to cry upon the deaths of people they consider important to them.

Perhaps it's a miracle when you reach in your purse to pull out your prayer beads and instead of finding one string you find three, and you give two away.

If you had never actually bought the other two, and they mysteriously materialized in your purse, then - sure - that's kind of odd. However, simply forgetting you put them all in your purses isn't a miracle (although it might be a sign to see your doc about cutting-edge Alzheimer's medications).

Like when that old knee doesn't give out after riding in the back seat for two hours to Mass.

Errr... don't knees give out from being stood upon? What next? Hey, my tennis elbow is gone and I don't even play tennis! Thank you, Jesus!

Like when you look up in the sky, beyond where airplanes fly, and you think you see angels.

Not a miracle, dear. That's the pattern-seeking human mind at work. Sometimes I look up in the sky and can see bunnies or dogs or faces. Now, if you're talking about a cloudless sky, it's still not a miracle. It just means you're crazy.

Or like when a woman goes to bed at night in despair and wakes up in the morning to face a new day -- and a bright sun slips through her blinds.

Because the sun coming up in the morning is a very strange thing. One wonders if the author of this piece of crap opens her front door every morning, sees that glowing orb of nuclear energy, and falls to her knees in thankfulness "Praise the Lord! There it is again!"

Isn't that a miracle?" the Rev. Eddie E.L. Tolentino III, pastor of St. Michael's Catholic Church in Silver Spring, is asking. "There is something incredibly mysterious about life. It is a miracle to wake up in the morning filled with pain and on the edge of despair, and realize you can go on. It's a miracle. If you consider a miracle as something we have no power over."

Nonsense. Plenty of people wake up in the morning filled with pain and on the edge of despair. They then decide to take a loaded gun and explode their brains on the bedroom wall. Or perhaps they overdose on some pills. Even if they do not, they actively choose to give up or to keep fighting - they have complete power of their choice.

Platitudes sure are pretty, but they're really no substitute for thinking, Pastor Tolentino.

The pope, the Holy Father, he says, was a remarkable man who celebrated the ministry of God. "He awakened people to what is the best in them," Tolentino says. "There is something about the human person who yearns for something beyond, and he helped us see what that was."

If the something beyond this life involves considering gay people and their desire to marry as something "evil," I'll quite happily stick to this lonely life, thanks. If the something beyond means seeing suffering as a net good, because it makes you more like Jesus, screw that and pass me the Percocet.

Holy crap, I just realize that this trite piece of pablum is four pages long. I have neither the patience to mock it for that long, or the sadism to make you go on reading it in excerpt form.

If believing such nonsense makes you feel better, bully for you. However, if - in a world of war and famine and disease - the best your god can do is make you think you see angels or help you find a little money in a pocket, well, color me unimpressed.

A bright, bold neon shade of unimpressed.

Update: For those curious about the Pope and his views on gay marriage, I present Exhibit A.