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.