Papal Real Estate

The Huffington Post is keeping up with all of Pope Francis' moves. I got this one just now.

www.huffingtonpost.com/2013/03/26/pope-francis-will-not-move-into-papal-apartments_n_2956348.html?1364314095&utm_hp_ref=fb&src=sp&comm_ref=false#sb=3829824,b=facebook


I was going to talk about the environment and a few other topics, but then this one came out. It is startling to say the least—and yet, I predicted it. I said to my friends and family: "This guy is NOT going to want to live in the Papal Palace. It will drive him nuts." Well, that's my casual way of talking to people I know—no disrespect for Pope Francis intended here.

What do we learn today from Pope Francis?

We learn that he is a man who shuns any kind of frippery. He is not comfortable in what I would call "a fancy, schmantzy place." In this era of McMansions, this is going in the opposite direction. It's asking: "Who needs a gigantic place with all kinds of elaborate things in it?" It's saying he will take what he needs to do his job and leave all the extras behind.

Quite honestly, I love collecting things. I love the big rooms in my apartment. I'm no different than most people that way. While I don't want anything elaborate, I'm not exactly living plain. There are pictures on my walls, crocheted blankets all over the place, enough pillows to satisfy an Arab, and all sorts of knick-knacks and geegaws (what they call artistic clutter) everywhere.

I'm not much for dressing up, but I love a pretty environment. I love the many gardens in our apartment complex. I enjoy the view of the trees outside my window. Yet, I don't think I would want to live in a palace. That would be too much.

Yesterday, I thought about all the dishes in my closets and all the extra scarves that I make just because I like to make them. Do I need these things? Do I even want them? Aren't there are lot of things in my apartment that are just taking up space and doing nothing but collecting more dust to bother my sinuses?

When my husband's aunt, Sister Paula, died, the nuns were giving away her few possessions to her family. Thinking of a small inheritance that had been mentioned previously, I was hesitant to inquire about it; yet, I was curious. So I said something about her "estate" to the other Sisters. And they said, "this was her estate," meaning these few objects, including some art she had done and also the beautiful life that she had given to Jesus. While I was left wondering about the inheritance and about a blanket I had made for her, I did know that the nuns were correct in what they said. 

Then, they sent us a box with even more treasures—more art, letters and pictures from family members, rosary beads, Bibles, and more. Many of the beautiful things that our much-beloved Aunt Paula treasured in her long and productive life were in that box. Even some of our gifts were in that box—but not that blanket...

Much as I would have loved to have that blanket, I assumed that it had gone perhaps to another Sister who had admired it. Or maybe it went to a poor person in the parish. Perhaps the person who had told us about an inheritance was mistaken.  

But so what? We had all these other precious items from her. I especially loved a plaque with a painting of the my husband's Spaight family ancestral home in Derryfadda, Ireland. Months later, when we learned that this plaque had been given to Aunt Paula by another relative, I scanned it on my computer, and we returned the plaque to the original giver. I hated to let it go, but, in a way, I loved to let it go too, because it would bring comfort to the man who had had it made for Aunt Paula.

Plaque with painting
of Spaight ancestral home
in Derryfadda, Ireland.

Then, one day, a few months later, my husband walked in the door with a broad grin on his face. The inheritance had actually been real and it was coming our way. Divided between her two nephews (my husband and his brother), our portion could finance a trip to Ireland. Oh how we planned that trip. Passports, plane and hotel reservations, maps, searches on the internet for sites to see, we were at it almost 24/7! It was all set. Then my best friend died unexpectedly, and I broke my ankle in three places. The trip was off. I wouldn't be well enough to travel.

I was too busy recovering to feel terrible about my missing our first—and probably only—trip to Europe, but I did feel bad for my husband who was stuck taking care of me and missing this longed-for trip. So what did my husband do? He went on his blog and described in great detail a series of adventures we had in Ireland—all in his fertile imagination. It started here...

Paddy's Place: Fantasy Ireland
jimsp8.blogspot.com/2012/07/fantasy-ireland.html

So, G-d didn't want us to go there yet. But instead we were given another gift. A creative door opened up, and my husband started writing and writing and writing. He's writing a book now. And—nudge, nudge, nudge—I the editor/writer realized that I was letting my own literary talents lie fallow. "St. Jude," I prayed, "please give me something to write about. I don't know what to write about."

Then on March 13, 2013, Pope Francis stepped out to greet the crowds that awaited him. And THAT was when all this Pope-related blogging began. St. Jude had answered my prayer. But instead of me starting with my favorite causes, it was about the Pope. Well, that just shows how G-d works in mysterious ways. 

By not moaning and groaning about a lost trip to Ireland but by being patient and letting G-d decide when it will be time for us to go there, we received gifts beyond compare. We received gifts of creativity and joy. And Aunt Paula's inheritance waits for us when the time is right. Wow, I wish we could afford a trip to the Vatican too—just to be there and see Pope Francis. After all, he gave me this gift of inspiration. But I will gratefully, joyfully accept whatever G-d decides.

How does this relate to giving or giving up things? Most of us can give up some things. And ALL of us—no matter how poor we might be—can give of ourselves—our love, our sweetness, our creativity, and our empathy. We just have to give up a bit of our egos and our lust for consuming things, and more things, and more things. 

Is this about me? Yes, it is! It's about you too. It's about almost everybody.

While we may not be ready to give up our cherished possessions and go wholesale into plain living, might there be things that we can let go of? Are there clothes and objects that poor people can really use better than we can? Are the churches collecting such things to give to the poor? 

Where can I unload a somewhat-incomplete set of dishes and extra scarves? 

Churches, get ready! A lot of people out there may start asking similar questions. At least a whole lot of Catholics are likely to. And, yes, there may also be we many unchurched souls who find a peculiar resonance with this new Pope because of his desire to strip the Church of its fripperies. We too may want to do a bit of stripping in our own lives as well. We may want to make our own real estate simpler and cleaner to let in G-d's gifts.

Irregardless of the personal choices we may make, we can admire Pope Francis for setting a good example of how to be more humble and how to appreciate what we do have. Pope Francis gives a precious gift of wisdom. Let us try not to waste it.