Hey, There's the Pope

Sitting in the hard wooden pew, in a very open and airy church. It's large, a very big space inside, but sparse, a lot more like a Luthern or Episcopalian structure, lots of wood, with only very modest decoration all around. Lots of natural light, but none of the often gaudy colors of stained glass streaming through. Sunlight coming from behind me, over my right shoulder, wonderful white-gold bars of slanted light angling down to the foot of the altar.

And in the middle of the mass, there's the Pope, right up there in the middle of it all. It seems that it's a regular mass, but what's he doing here? And why isn't this place just absolutely packed? I mean, there is empty pew space to my left, all the way to the aisle, room enough for another dozen folks. No one standing in the aisles. Come to think of it, no security at all, at least that I can discern.

And the Pope is yabbering away the mass words, just dribbling them out as he's done thousands of times before. I can't help but wonder if the words just don't spill out on auto-pilot, the meaning of the day-to-day mass lost after so much repetition. Sure, the meaning would come through on the Biggies, the Christmas masses, the Easter masses, but for something like today? I have to wonder if he's really feeling it, really into what he's putting out.

And what the hell am I doing here? I'm an atheist, for Chrissakes. But it's interesting, something new, and maybe the Pope will offer something of interest.

There's a question-and-answer, but the Pope is answering confusingly. There's a swanky cardinal in the pew in front of me, and all this guy does is clarify and refine and qualify every utterance the Holy Father puts out. So why isn't this crimson-bedecked guy, right down to the gloves, up on the altar holding the press conference? And why doesn't the Pope tell him to shut the hell up and sit down?

The Pope looks pretty healthy, a little guy with a big head. His English is excellent, but thick with his native German. He speaks clearly, to my listening fully in command of what he's saying and wants to say. Except this dickhead cardinal who keeps interrupting and making stupid qualifying remarks.

Then communion comes around. It's not traditional Catholic communion, the everybody-go-to-the-altar thing, but is more of a Church of Christ communion, with the wine coming down the rows in tiny little glasses in those fascinating round, silver holders. My two kids want a drink, and I've got to be a lot more stern that I thought I'd have to be to get them to be quiet and to keep their hands away from the holder. I'm not about to take any of this stuff, but I'm respectful enough to keep the kids quiet and focused. After all, we're in church. I may not believe in any of this bullshit, but I'll be polite enough to show respect for others' beliefs, as hollow and meaningless and baseless as they are.

Then comes the hosts, like little beige Necco wafers in neato little wooden bowls. Everyone just grabs one and pops it in, mumbling their rote "Body of Christ" as they do so. Yep, this is a departure from the Catholic communion I saw as a kid.

I just push the wine and the hosts on down the row, taking them and passing them on. Neighbors are around, and they notice that I'm not partaking. Whatever, although I'd like the opportunity to clearly and all at once explain to them where I'm coming from. I'd like to do that, but won't have the chance. I'll just explain myself and my beliefs as opportunities arise, in the weeks and months and years that follow.