Desperately Seeking Tickets

to See Pope Francis in New York City:

Disappointed and Down in the Dumps

New York City is the only place where every single event to see Pope Francis requires tickets. Who would have thought that getting to see a Pope was harder than trying to see a rock star? I've had better luck with Bob Dylan, The Rolling Stones, Elton John, The Beatles, and many others. There was always a ticket to be found somewhere, somehow.

What is particularly disturbing is that some people entered the recent contest for tickets to the Central Park Event simply to obtain tickets to sell at outrageous prices for people who were desperate to see the Pope. Again, I've had better luck with rock stars.

There was only ONE way for an unchurched person like me to obtain a ticket: Enter the Central Park contest. Madison Square Garden was not giving or selling any tickets. Those were only for the faithful members of the various parishes around the city (understandably). Tickets for the Ground Zero event were only open to people who lived in the area or who were affected by 9/11 (again, understandably).

So, what's a person like me to do? I know of somebody who won and declined the tickets, not realizing that I would have been more than happy to relieve her of them. She found the security arrangements too onerous. I would have gone through that no matter what.

It's very disheartening that a Pope of the people is harder to even get a glimpse of than a rock star ever was. Seems like nothing has really changed except now that the head of the Catholic Church is totally inaccessible to people in New York City.

And they wonder why religion is flaming out over here? It's not just all the ideological things, although those play a major role. It's putting the Pope up on some pedestal and making us all feel worthless because we are not allowed in his presence.

 Pope Francis, My Father, and St. Jude

Or the Strangeness of the Universe 

and the Need for Divorce

OMG, I'm nearly ready to go back to Church! The Church has never had such a Pope as Pope Francis. This man is infused with supernatural understanding of the human condition. How he got it I don't know. He is the first Pope I ever knew that was so intelligent and aware. 

I haven't blogged in a while because everything was pretty much the same, and I already had written so much about how capitalism stinks and how we have to care for the poor. Mind you, I'm not complaining because it's great that Pope Francis talks about this issue a great deal.

But today I found this, and it is absolutely remarkable:

http://www.huffingtonpost.com/2015/06/25/pope-francis-marital-separation_n_7657512.html?cps=gravity_2677_-5002707399435042344

In "Pope Francis Says Divorce Can Be 'Morally Necessary' To Protect Kids," Huff Post Religion reporter Rosie Scammell notes that Pope Francis actually said that it was "morally necessary" for parents to separate, especially “when it comes to saving the weaker spouse, or young children, from more serious injuries caused by intimidation and violence, by humiliation and exploitation, by lack of involvement and indifference.”

To this I add a LOUD and RESOUNDING AMEN! AMEN! WORLD WITHOUT END! 

Here's the deal. I've been happily married to a wonderful man for 30 years! He is my twin flame, my soul mate, and my all. Sometimes, I think of something and he just brings it to me. That's how close we are. So, you might well ask: "Why do you believe so fervently in divorce?" Well, there is a darn good reason for that: I am the product of a bad marriage. From the time I was 8 years old, I would tell my mother: "If I were you, I would divorce the son of a bitch." 

I said that and many other worse things because my father was a very cheap and mean person for most of his life. He did not like to share any part of himself or what he earned, even when his family needed it. When he was displeased, he would curse and holler and threaten. 

I never saw him hit my mother, but we children certainly got it. Mostly it was The Strap. That could come out because we giggled in bed past bedtime. It could come out because one of us would wake up screaming from a nightmare. It could come out because we made sexy jokes (which he himself loved to make). It could come out because we cursed (which he did very often). I got a shoe thrown at my head for not hearing him tell me to move out of his way to watch the TV. These days, they would call that child abuse. Back then, it was just what fathers did—at least so my mother thought.

I lived in fear of him. I would never go near him or talk to him unless it was absolutely necessary, with few exceptions. I never asked him for anything until I was already old. I felt he did not love me at all. He threatened to put me in a mental institution, which frightened me no end. Ironically, when I did land in a Day Hospital for patients with problems, it was a great experience that not only included a lot of caring and healing, but was also a lot of fun.

He was stingy with money too. My mother always had to make do with scant amounts of money. Fortunately, she was very resourceful, and we ended up having lovely bespoke clothes before that became fashionable. He would not pay for a tonsillectomy that one of my sisters needed.

He was a hard worker, but when it came to doing things needed around the house or carrying things, he left that all to my mother. She literally did the heavy lifting.

My parents fought all the time, with unkind words and a lot of hollering. When my father would leave the house saying he wasn't going to come back, my sisters and I would laugh like crazy. We hoped it was true.

I will never forget the day I realized that I had some courage. My sister had brought her male dog in the house, and the male dog got together with our female dog and started doing what male and female dogs do naturally. This embarrassed and enraged my father, especially because the event was taking place in front of a few of us, including our youngest sister. 

My father hollered at the dogs but they didn't separate. Dogs can't just separate; they have to finish their business. That enraged my father even more. He went to our basement and got a lead pipe and advanced toward the porch where the dogs were. His intention was clear—he wanted to beat the brains out of the dogs. My youngest sister, who was sitting on a porch chair, became hysterical. 

I was this little skinny thing weighing less than 100 lbs. He was muscular and much bigger than me. I don't know what possessed me, but I grabbed an umbrella from our coat tree and pointed it straight at my father and said calmly: "Don't you come one step closer." He threw down the pipe, said "son of a bitch," and walked away. I could have been brained. I think G-d was with me. G-d gave me the strength to face my father down when it was needed.

But, let me set the record straight, lest you believe he was a total ogre. In his later years, he became much nicer toward me. It had to do with the fact that I had married a wonderful man and it was clear that there were many things that I loved about my husband. I think my father realized then that I was not a "man hater"; I just hated cruelty. We still had arguments, but he began to model some of his behavior on my husband's benevolent ways. My father would then do favors for me. He would say decent things about me. 

And one day, when I was upset, he gave me the greatest gift ever. No, it wasn't money. It wasn't even a hug or saying "I love you." He handed me a card with a picture of St. Jude and a copy of the prayer to St. Jude. "When you get upset, take this card and say this prayer," my father said. "It will help you." Well, I never knew my father to be a praying man. I was astounded. But I figured anything was worth a try. So, I did it. I prayed to St. Jude and each time, my prayers were answered. I'm not saying I always got what I wanted, but I always got what I needed. To this day, St. Jude is my adopted patron Saint. That was the gift my father gave me—him of all people! It just goes to show that one never knows from where and from whom the universe will bestow much needed blessings--or Grace as President Obama called it recently.

So, here's the thing. Perhaps if my parents had separated, I might have had a very different kind of relationship with my father when I was younger. I might have been more able to appreciate his lighter side and his creativity. I might have been able to enjoy the family magic shows he put on or the other nice times that were sandwiched in between those bouts of cruelty.

He did, after all, take me to Willoughbys to look at cameras and eat at Horn and Hardarts. He did let me in his darkroom while he made pictures, and he did show me how to do that. He did drive us out to our country home, singing country and folk songs. He did make good jokes. Yes, actually there was some good in this otherwise mean man. And maybe if he didn't live and fight with my mother and the rest of us, we all might have been happier. Maybe we would have seen him for the good times and enjoyed that.

Yes, my parents should have divorced. They should have done so for themselves and for us children. Perhaps we all would have had better examples of what men could be. I was darn careful and picky, but I also got lucky when it came to getting married.

The Pope understands this about human beings. They do not always get along with one another. Sometimes, their values or their intellectual levels are too different. Sometimes, they simply grow in different—and highly conflicting—directions. Sometimes, they are just not made for family life. Sometimes, they just can't stand all the noise and chaos of children. I've never seen the sense of two miserable people staying together because they made a huge mistake by getting married.

It's because I believe in divorce so fervently that my marriage has lasted so long and been so happy. Both my husband and I realize that we must tend to our marriage or it will fall apart. We must always show our love to one another and respect each others' equal rights. We must do the necessary tasks in life cheerfully. I'm not saying we are perfect. We mess up. We get in our moods and have our misunderstandings. But underneath it all is the love that is so strong and enduring, so G-d given, so full of Grace. The "musts" become joyous for us. We are not perfect but we are perfect for each other.

Let Catholics marry with this understanding. Let them prepare for marriage and choose wisely. And, if they make mistakes, let them be liberated from those mistakes without any stigma of sin. Our much-beloved Pope Francis realizes this. He is truly receiving his wisdom from G-d. He is able to see the human condition with mercy that comes so much closer to the love of Jesus Christ than any previous Pope has ever had. Truly, I know people who would have benefited so greatly had Pope Francis been around when they were going through their troubles.

Viva il Papa. We don't have to agree on everything, but Pope Francis is MY Pope.

Pope Francis Tells It Like It Truly Is

Pope Francis Tells It Like It Truly Is

Today on Facebook, a meme came from SANDERS.SENATE.GOV and this was it:

The other day, on my Facebook page, I was saying how we do not truly have freedom of speech for many reasons. Among them, was that “we live in a corporate dictatorship.” The sad truth is that, no matter how much our leaders tell us that we should be honest, everything in our society, from the time we are born, tells us to lie, steal, and cheat. Almost everything is fake. That’s not just a modern complaint; the ancients had the same problem. Moses faced the Golden Calf. The Romans claimed that they were liberal about worshipping various gods, but when it came to the Jewish god, this claim was not true.

John the Baptist and Jesus were both executed for speaking truth. In John’s case, it was because he railed against Herod breaking Jewish law by marrying his brother’s wife. Herod was supposed to be the leader of the Jews but he felt that he was above the law. Sounds like a lot of people in the news these days. And we all know what happened to Jesus Christ. Crucified. Just because he said words that the Romans took offense at. Sounds like all the authoritarian dictatorships in today’s world.

Jesus tried to pave the way for the betterment of humanity. Have we truly progressed? I think not. Remember Copernicus? Galileo? They were the victims of Christianity gone rogue; the sweet and gentle religion that Jesus died for had turned into vicious Crusades and the Inquisition. If anything, in modern times we are very much like the people in the desert worshipping the golden calf while Moses went to seek the word of G-d. We are still a society that reveres power and money, and sacrifices goodness for it. From making shoddy—and sometimes dangerous—products to creating little corporate kingdoms and queendoms in which people must bow to the rulers in order to make a living.

Wherein lies this dismal failure? Let’s start in childhood. It begins innocently enough when little Emma says she thinks Aunt Bertha’s green dress is ugly and makes her look fat. Emma is immediately shushed by Mamma, whose embarrassment is very obvious. So, first, we teach our children to tell white lies. That’s not so bad; the intention is to prevent needless hurt caused by brutal frankness.

Let’s move on to when Emma is about 8 years old. She walks into a candy store and steals a pack of gum. When he mother discovers the gum, she is shocked because she knows that Emma didn’t have any money to buy it. So, in an angry tone, she grills Emma. “Did you steal that gum?!!!” Emma hears the anger and becomes afraid of punishment. She knows that, when Mamma sounds that angry, a good smack on her rear is likely to follow. So, Emma invents a way to extricate herself from the situation. “No. My friend, Cathy, gave it to me.” The lie works. Or, if Mamma uncovers the truth, Emma is in for more than a spanking. She probably won’t get to watch TV for a week too. Well, we think, “of course, stealing is wrong and should be punished.”

Here’s the problem: With the best of intentions, Mamma has lost a very good teachable moment. She could have asked Emma calmly how she got the gum. Emma probably would have told the truth. Then what? Then, Mamma could have explained to Emma that it is wrong to take things from other people and that they are hurt when they are robbed. Mamma could have said to Emma: “I forgive you because you didn’t realize this. Let’s go back to the store and say ‘sorry’ and return the gum. I’m sure Mr. Finkelstein will understand and forgive you too.” And, if the good Mr. Finkelstein realizes that Emma and her mother are trying to right a wrong, he, too may forgive the child.

Which lesson is better for Emma? In the first scenario, Emma has learned that lying is convenient and easy. She is able to steal and lie to get what she wants and not be punished. In the second scenario, Emma learns that she did something wrong, but that she can fix it. She can be forgiven. This is what mercy is all about. This is what Jesus meant when he said to the prostitute “go, and sin no more.”

Unfortunately, too many children learn the wrong lesson. This persists through school and college and then into the workplace, which is a particularly harsh and cruel setting to navigate.

Being hierarchical is another problem. Emma learns that she should never contradict a grownup, even if the grownup is wrong. The reason given is that “grownups know more than children and children need to show respect.” If Emma rebels against Aunt Bertha distributing candy to her and her cousins but giving the boys more candy than the girls, instead of being praised for speaking out, Emma is shushed again—this time by both Mamma and Aunt Bertha. The inequality is allowed to persist. Why? Because the grownups should not be contradicted. This is senseless.

Had Mamma told Aunt Bertha that her candy distribution was unfair, maybe Aunt Bertha would be angry. Maybe not? Maybe Aunt Bertha would explain that she thought that the boys were more active, so they needed more candy. Whether or not that is correct isn’t the point. The point is that the event would have been explained rather than simply enforced. Maybe Aunt Bertha, realizing the inequality, would give the girls more candy to make up for the deficit. Or, at least, she might explain why she did it. Or, if Aunt Bertha stalks off in anger, at least Mamma will back Emma up. Emma then learns that she did the right thing, even if some people disagree with her.

In the first scenario, Emma learns that one must always give way to people “above” her. In the second scenario, Emma learns to speak truth to power and that power can sometimes respond well.

And once again, unfortunately, too many children learn about this hierarchy when they are very young, and this negative lesson persists throughout their lives. By the time people reach the brutal workplace, they are already primed to be obedient slaves to their bosses instead of collaborators trying to make things work out the best for everyone.

As Leonard Cohen said: “It starts with your family and soon it comes ’round to your soul.”

Bernie Sanders (by promoting this meme) and Pope Francis are using their positions of power to speak for those of us who have been silenced. Although the law says we have free speech, in truth, we do not. We are, in essence, wage slaves, doomed to lie and cheat and bow down to the hierarchy in order to survive. We are punished every time we dare to do the right thing, correct a wrong, or speak the truth. It’s not crucifixion or torture on the rack, but there is the threat of homelessness caused by economic deprivation. If we lose our jobs because we have done the right thing or spoken the truth instead of pretending that everything is OK, how, indeed, can we survive?

There are worse things occurring that are routinely covered up, such as the police making it open season on black males and devising lies about why they do this. When investigators probe, if they are honest, they reveal a hornets’ nest of racism, crawling with all kinds of nasty actions and statements. This stems from people being taught at an early age that they are superior to other people.

Religious leaders instill a feeling of superiority among their flocks. Such a leader will promise that a particular religion is the only right way and that everybody else’s paths are wrong and will lead to damnation. This backfires badly. Instead of everybody being satisfied to follow their own beliefs, we end up with jihads and other kinds of abuses, such as discrimination against people who are different.

People could be taught to value their own beliefs and to feel strong enough not to have to destroy people who have other faiths. Rabbi Schlomo Carlebach was asked what Jews being a “chosen people” meant. He explained that this designation simply indicated that the Jews had a particular spiritual mission. Then he said: “There are many roads to G-d, and they are all valid.” These are profound words to live by.

Pope Francis, when questioned about gay people, replied: “Who am I to judge?” Jesus associated with prostitutes, lepers, tax collectors, and other hated people. What is the lesson? It’s all about being inclusive. It’s all about living one’s beliefs and allowing other people to live theirs. It’s all about being in the world but not of the world. When one’s faith is strong, one never worries about being tainted because of associations with others. One realizes that people with different values don’t necessarily have to be our best friends, but we can do business with them. We can associate with them in a harmonious way that is inclusive.

Politicians, police officers, CEOs, and religious leaders could use their positions to make life better if they were not beholden to financial interests or to the hierarchy. Laws could be passed that truly serve the people. Communities could be protected against real crimes. Companies could have happy employees working for them to do the best possible jobs. People in their churches, synagogues, temples, mosques, and ashrams could be led to extend mercy and love toward everybody.

I suppose this is my version of Imagine, by the late John Lennon.

 For Your Enjoyment

As promised, Paradox: True or False Tales is now available on Amazon.com in paperback.

Some of the tales in this book have already appeared in earlier form on this blog. Others are new.

 

http://www.amazon.com/Paradox-False-Billie-Mudry-Spaight/dp/1511514760/ref=sr_1_1?ie=UTF8&qid=1430697929&sr=8-1&keywords=Billie+Mudry+Spaight

It's 47 pages in a 6 X 9 format, and can be read relatively quickly, which makes it ideal for reading while traveling or during some downtime.   

Happy reading for those of you who decide to get a copy. Comments would be appreciated. 


Visit: http://www.amazon.com/Paradox-False-Billie-Mudry-Spaight/dp/1511514760/ref=sr_1_1?ie=UTF8&qid=1430697929&sr=8-1&keywords=Billie+Mudry+Spaight

This, That, and the Other Thing

First of all, when I put that About Me stuff on there, it was two years ago. I'm now 66. I've been going in there trying to pull it up to change it but it won't let me do it.

Second of all, there are two important books coming out. One is Shadow's Prisoners by J. Paddy Spaight. A great paranormal tale. Disclosure Statement, I'm the author's wife and I edited the book. Still and all I am so fussy I edit shopping lists so I think perhaps you may trust me when I say that this book is great for fans of the paranormal.  I designed the cover and took the pix of him.So here's my "ad" for all of you. The book is available in e-format from Smashwords. My own book, Paradox: True or False Tales, which includes some of the stories you have read on this blog is currently in production. I'll give you all a heads up when that comes out.

A cascade of death sweeps through a small town, and a quaint funeral home is at the center of the problem—but it’s not about the dead people there—it’s that some of them aren’t exactly dead. Fifteen-year-old Peter Livingston lives in the funeral home, but he doesn’t know about its gruesome connection to a maxium-security prison—some of the prison’s not-dead inmates are not-alive either.

Shadow’s Prisoners is filled with horror and cliffhanger chapters and it’s a real page turner. In between the disgusting (rats) and the ugly (corpses) and the evil (plotters and schemers), there are also glimpses of warmth and humor that encourage the reader to stay hot on the trail with Peter, armed only with a flashlight, searches through everything and anything to solve the mystery. Who or what is killing so many animals and people in his town?

There’s the doctor who rides a motorcycle through town to take care of his patients. There’s the teacher who is  a recycling fiend. There’s Peter’s father who is struggling to keep the old mortuary from becoming as dead as its clients. There’s Peter’s uncle who understands, more than anybody else, why it is necessary to brave the worst to discover the unnatural truth. And there’s the FBI agent who is forced to accept things way beyond his skill-set. And these are all the good folks.

Ultimately, this situation is for the birds—well actually a very special bird—who lives with Peter’s family and causes no end of havoc.

J. Paddy Spaight works as a logistics analyst at his day job. Otherwise, he works on his blog, Paddy’sPlace, and is writing several short stories. He lives with his wife, Billie M. Spaight, a medical editor, and their two cats, Corduroy and Gizmo, in the borough of Queens in New York City. His interests include films, genealogy (especially about Ireland) sports, art, music, politics, and paranormal phenomena.

Half a Loaf is Better than None: Pope Francis' Half Miracle.

Half a Loaf is Better Than None:

Pope Francis’ Half Miracle

Ed Mazza of HuffPostReligion reports that something very odd happened when Pope Francis was in Naples attending festivities for the Feast of San Gennaro (also known as Januarius) on March 21, 2015. The Saint's dried blood, inside a sealed glass ampoule, began to liquify when the Pope kissed the outside of the ampoule. Half of the contents became so immediately, while the remainder. Mazza reported that this was the first time this had happened in front of a Pope, since 1848, when it happened in front of Pope Pius XI.  This had been reported to happen prior to that, as often as six times per year.

Read:

Pope Francis Credited With Performing "Miracle" As St. Gennaro's Blood Liquifies

http://www.huffingtonpost.com/2015/03/22/pope-francis-miracle_n_6920624.html

While some members of the onlooking crowd burst into ecstatic tears, and others cheered, Cardinal Crescenzo Sepe, archbishop of Naples, told the cheering crowd, according to Vatican Insider: “It is the sign that St. Gennaro loves Pope Francis: half of the blood turned to liquid."

With typical humility, Pope Francis responded: 

"If only half of it liquefied, that means we still have work to do; we have to do better. . . .We only have half of the Saint's love." 

According to Vatican Insider, the rest of the dried blood eventually liquefied that day.

Much as this impressed the faithful, skeptics suggested that the liquification might be the result of the relic being moved and put on display.

In any event, the Pope looked rather surprised himself.

So, what are we to make of this? I’m not very religious, but every time this story surfaces on the news, I end up crossing myself like any other good Catholic.

I’ve not been around much on The Populist Pope. There are two reasons and an “excuse” for that. First, much of what was being reported was simply a variant of what had been covered previously. Second, there were a series of recent misteps by Pope Francis. One reason was his manner of talking about women in old-fashioned derogatory terms. Another was his appointing a bishop to Chile who was cited for covering up sexual abuse in his diocese.

Indeed, the Pope was continuing to broach new issues and concerns, making pleas for mercy instead of strict judgment. However, as expected, not one scrap of doctrine was changed. So we were standing at the status quo. Open the door, let some air in, and talk, but everything and everybody is to remain stationary. This is why I remain unchurched. I admire the man just for even talking about such things and for making merciful gestures, but I feel ready for more.

Here’s the excuse. A busy life and an illness drained me of a lot of energy.

But when I read this “miracle” story, I had to come back and say something—anything.

Do I believe it’s a miracle? I’m sitting on the fence. Ouch! Part of me believes that it is so because I do believe that Pope Francis is a holy man. But, like he said, only half the work was done. I wonder if “the other half” means that he must now take steps to make actual changes. Is that what San Gennaro may be asking?

Not much is known about San Gennaro. He was born a patrician and became a priest during the 300s (ad). He hid fellow Christians during the persecutions of Emperor Diocletian and was himself arrested during that year-and-a-half period.

Perhaps the spirit of San Gennaro is interested in people who have to hide their identities for fear of persecution. His interest might be concerned with Christians who are being persecuted in the Middle East today.

However, I would love to think that maybe San Gennaro might just also be saying that is is necessary to welcome more people into the Church, people who are routinely excluded because of their marital status or their gender or sexual orientation. Might San Gennaro be declaring: “Francis, you’ve talked the talk, now walk the walk. Make changes!”?

I’m no theologian. Most, I am sure would disagree with me very strongly on this point. I’m the last person to know what the spirit of a Saint from the 300s is trying to convey. It’s just nice to think about it.

In any event, we know Pope Francis will ponder about what he needs to do. He did, after all, according to Mazza, speak out against organized crime and then “shared a meal with prison inmates, including some who have AIDS and some who are transgender.”

Can’t argue much with that, can we? You know the saying that “half a loaf is better than none.” Well, half an ampoule of liquified blood is also better than none.

These days, even half-miracles are welcome.