There ensued on Facebook, which is a seething cauldron of evil, a conversation which I started with a seemingly innocuous remark about the Pope resigning.
I noted the resignation of il Papá because there has not been a papal resignation in 598 years and I figure it’s significant in the scope of things.
I think being the pope is a big damn deal, and I’m not even Catholic. I don’t believe in the infallibility of the pope, I don’t believe in the subjugation of women and homosexuals (which term I shamelessly plagiarized from Lynn), I don’t believe that the body of Christ is to be found in the host when you take communion, and I believe in contraception like I invented it.
Being the pope is like being on the Supreme Court or in the mafia – you don’t just give two weeks notice without it having required a lot of thought and prayer and consideration. But this pope did just that the other day.
Now. There are a lot of people who don’t like Pope Benedict. He looks like the crypt keeper. He’s very rigid in his beliefs. He headed up the inquisition department, for crying out loud. Pope John Paul II memorabilia is still far more popular than Pope Benedict memorabilia. Not everybody can be pretty and popular.
Pope Benedict was a member of Hitler Youth during his youth. As were an estimated 80-90% of other German boys who were indoctrinated into the movement.
I do not intend or mean to defend the Nazis or Hitler. I mean to say that at 14, Joseph Ratzinger had no choice. He was 14, a child.
I certainly did not expect a judgment of his life in a war-torn country at 14.
What I said was:
This on Ratzinger’s affiliation with Hitler Youth: “The German-born leader of the Catholic Church grew up under the Third Reich, and like all boys of his era, was compelled to join the Hitler Youth as a teenager.” I’m not a fan of the Pope, or the idea of a Pope, or, indeed, of Catholicism. I’m also not a fan of judging the man for something that he, by most accounts, had no choice about, aside from death for himself and his family. In fact, I’m just not a fan of judgment. I’ve been kind of a shit from time to time myself, just not of the magnitude of being a member of Hitler Youth.
Because, you know, I’m not judgy. I’m a lot of terrible things, but judgy isn’t one of them. I’ve got plenty on my plate without having to sit in judgment too.
What I touched off was an avalanche of poorly thought-out and edited remarks from one (former) friend, one who is the last person I ever expected to get up on her high horse and judge someone else, considering and all.
But that was all I had to say about it, that I didn’t care for the judgy bit. Then Lynn made a comment to her, addressing the historical accuracy of the comments, and how that might affect her opinion.
Other things were said (by me) and then I shuffled off to bed.
I woke up yesterday morning to a shit storm of accusations that Lynn had not done anything to help in her hour of need.
In fact, NO ONE KNEW SHE WAS IN NEED, because she admittedly hid the situation from everybody, acting as though everything was cool.
What touched off the “hour of need” was a series of events that may or may not be true because now I don’t know who’s lying, but somebody sure is.
Which, you know, that’s your business, if you want the world to think your homelife is grand, then go on with your bad self. But if you want the Southern Ladies Auxiliary to help you, you’d better be letting us know you need us to charge up our brooms.
There was a great deal of ugliness toward Lynn, who was called a pansy.
Lynn is not a pansy. If Lynn is a flower at all, she is one of those giant sunflowers you can stand under for shade and not get melanoma, and if it rains, she’ll make sure you don’t get wet, and she’s pretty. If Lynn had known there was a problem, Lynn would have handled it in a hot hurry.
So bitchery was committed and then deleted.
And I was called judgmental.
And I am here to tell you right now, if I were inclined to pass judgment, I sure as hell could have done it over far more local and immediate things than her opinions on the pope.
So now, it’s Lynn’s fault for not “doing enough” all those years. Part of the whole shebang was that Catholics believe in martyrdom. Well, sister, you’ve got it down pat. Put some wheels on that cross and ride it like a skateboard.
And also, sistah, if you’re reading this, you can bitch all you want to, but you called me.
Good luck in your future endeavors.