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          Naturally, I am delighted that Pope Francis is coming to see me! His is a hectic schedule. Rather than selfishly insist on a private audience, I have— in the name of Christian hospitality— decided to share my experience with an additional 49,999 other people outside the Basilica of the National Shrine of the Immaculate Conception in Washington, D.C.

I feel it’s the least I can do!

Lest you think I am simply name-dropping here, allow me to elucidate.

I graduated from Oxburg High School with Cecilia Pope (no relation to the pontiff).

In our Army unit, before every deployment, Catholic school graduate  Dougie McDonnell would remind us that “There is no hope without the pope.” In battle, I admit, this got bastardized into “There is no dope quite like the pope.” (Full disclosure: My mom feels this is terribly offensive and I should delete it. What to do?)

Our family has had a lasting relationship with the Holy See.

My Grandma Esther, my mom’s mother, took the Queen Mary from New York to Europe in March of 1965. When she reached Italy, ornery and difficult to deal with, she wrangled herself an audience with Pope Paul VI. Unfortunately, Esther got into an argument with His Holiness over the Roman emperor Constantine’s calling of the Council of Nicaea in 325 to refute the heresy of the Egyptian priest Arius. Esther agreed with Arius that while Jesus was divinely inspired, he was not necessarily a blood relation of the Deity. Not a first cousin, not a son. It was Esther’s conviction that with the unassailable establishment of The Holy Trinity, the Catholic Church has never been quite the same.

Pope Paul VI, a deeply evangelical man— named after the Apostle Paul— disagreed.

Theology was not the reason, however, for the meeting. In compensation for Pope Pius XII’s alleged collaboration with the Nazis during World War Two, Esther felt the Church could donate some of its land holdings in Poland to us, the Zakroiski clan of Bialystok. “We lost 34 cousins,” declared Esther. “Some Christian charity would salve this wound.”

It wasn’t as if Esther wanted to move back to Poland, of course. No way! Esther intended to sell the land and use the proceeds to acquire a nice condominium in Miami Beach, Florida. In any case, “Nope,” said the Pope.

Thus, sadly, to this day, I lack a baronial estate on the river Vistula in Poland. (Hint! Hint!)

When I heard that Pope (påve) Johannes Paulus II intended to visit Sweden (Sverige) in 1989, I wrote a letter to the Vatican suggesting which neighborhoods he should avoid: Places like the Stockholm suburbs of Alby and Jordbro, where the Turks and Assyrians are so militantly Muslim, a Catholic prelate might not receive such a warm welcome. I’m told the Pope’s visit to Sweden went swimmingly.

I had great hopes during the reign of John Paul, nicknamed “the Polish pope.” His given name was Karol Józef Wojtyła. Originally from Wadowice in Poland, he officiated in the Vatican from 1978 to 2005. He traveled the world. You know what we used to say, “John Paul, George and Ringo.” Alas, when my phone rang, it was never the Vatican on the line. 

So what do we have here? In the year 2015, President Obama snubs the prime minister of Israel, but for the pope, he rolls out the whole megillah. So much for the separation of church and state!

It is my sincerest hope that this papal visit will spread the word on the importance of the Jumbotron.

Thank you.

Kevin Feingold, XYZ

September, 2015