In his recurring dream, the Pope was again seated in a ballroom where The Divine Comic was performing in front of a holy horde:
Clerics, ministers, ecclesiastics, prophets, preachers, priests, mystics, monks, lamas, nuns, rabbis, powahs, yogis, imams, avatars, rishis, gurus, holy men, holy women, saints—spiritual models all, all in religious garb.
They were seated at round tables: ten or twelve per table. All of them imbibed rolled tobacco or water pipes. All sipped spirits. A thick murky swirl of smoke sat holy-like over the crowd.
Besides glowing tobacco tips, the room was lit by a spotlight fixed on a lone figure upon an enormous stage up front.
This figure, who in Baja-cielo is named Dios but in the outer limits is called The Divine Comic, addressed the crowd between deep drags on a long, hand-rolled, thick, sea-green, myrtle cigarette.
Next to The Comic, off to one side, sat a feather-winged angel in a clown suit behind a snare drum and cymbal. Drum sticks twirled in angelically nimble fingers.
The crowd was convulsed in non-stop laughter as The Comic continued in the ‘perfect’ routine, because a divine comic can only conjure the highest humor, delivering it with faultless timing.
With the spotlight in a perfect halo around the divine performer, The Divine Comic stopped the comedy routine and spoke directly to the Pope, quietly, gently, with kind eyes:
This sex scandal thing has possessed you rotten, kid.
And God has possessed you rotten.
So forget God!
I’ll let you in on a secret.
God does not mind not to be in mind.
And here’s another little truth: I would say single celibacy is for the birds, but celibacy isn’t even for the birds!
Now a big truth: the only REAL spirituality is in the mundane ordinary activity of family life:
Doing homework with an eight-year-old child, spelling ‘company’ and ‘giant’ in a brightly lit den.
Here’s your solution, and there are similar solutions for all the other clerical boys:
There’s a girl in Saint Anne’s city you will adopt and raise as your own.
No more single life for the lads in clerical dark!
With a jolt the Pope awoke, scales falling from his eyes, eyes widening into perfect circles, mind released into flawless clarity, recognizing with immaculate precision, sensing, understanding, knowing what must be done:
A b d i c a t i o n
Then the Pope collapsed back into his pillows and sheets, laboring toward a deep, deep, peaceful, dreamless sleep.
Featured image ‘Pope Francis With Children’ by Long Thien via Flickr