Habemus Papam, Habentne Papam
Disputations is such a wet blanket.
Oh, OK. I swear that I did not cackle and rub my hands while playing a mental movie of a herd of heterodox liberal loudmouths, spooked like neurotic cattle at the announcement of Papa Ratzi, breaking down the fence and running headlong off Chesterton's cliff. Honest. On a stack of Bibles.
But I admit I did savor, both in expectation and fruition, the howls of indignation from all the usual suspects. MoDo whines 'cause the cafeteria's closed? Good, they usually do that when the joint's spreading typhus. I understand it's wicked to desire that Andrew Sullivan finally just shut the eff up already about the existential imperative of the contents of his underpants and just bail for the lace and lavender branch of the Church of England. [I continue to hold out hope, however, that it is not sinful to pray that Andrew might stop misusing his considerable talent.]
It has also occurred to me that those of us who went giddy with excitement and joy when the words following Annuntio vobis audium magnum — habemus Papam were Eminentissium ac Reverendissium Dominum, Dominum Josephum Sanctae Romanae Ecclesiae Cardinalem Ratzinger might be forgetting something we're supposed to believe about the Church. I don't think it's internally consistent to wish fervently for the election of a particular cardinal
and to truly trust that the Vicar of Christ is the Rock upon which is built the church that is promised to prevail against the Gates of Hell. To believe that the true fate of the Church depends on which cardinal is chosen, and furthermore to believe that I would have any valid insight into which cardinal would be the right choice, is probably sinful pride.
However. Although Benedict XVI is not Superpope, I hope he eventually gets his own comic book.
One thing that has marred this day on which the Universal Church has been given a new Holy Father is the ugliness of many commenters who gleefully await the insufficiently pure's public repudiation of their membership in that same Church.
That is wickedness. It is the fruit of a sinful heart, and deserves rebuke.
Oh, OK.
But I admit I did savor, both in expectation and fruition, the howls of indignation from all the usual suspects. MoDo whines 'cause the cafeteria's closed? Good, they usually do that when the joint's spreading typhus. I understand it's wicked to desire that Andrew Sullivan finally just shut the eff up already about the existential imperative of the contents of his underpants and just bail for the lace and lavender branch of the Church of England. [I continue to hold out hope, however, that it is not sinful to pray that Andrew might stop misusing his considerable talent.]
It has also occurred to me that those of us who went giddy with excitement and joy when the words following Annuntio vobis audium magnum — habemus Papam were Eminentissium ac Reverendissium Dominum, Dominum Josephum Sanctae Romanae Ecclesiae Cardinalem Ratzinger might be forgetting something we're supposed to believe about the Church. I don't think it's internally consistent to wish fervently for the election of a particular cardinal
and to truly trust that the Vicar of Christ is the Rock upon which is built the church that is promised to prevail against the Gates of Hell. To believe that the true fate of the Church depends on which cardinal is chosen, and furthermore to believe that I would have any valid insight into which cardinal would be the right choice, is probably sinful pride. However. Although Benedict XVI is not Superpope, I hope he eventually gets his own comic book.
Update:
Posted by Kathy on
Thursday April 21, 2005 at 11:36am