Dozens of clergy preceded Pope Benedict XVI as he closed the mass at St. Patrick’s Cathedral in New York City. Beside him were men in dark suits with conspicuous lapel pins and earphones, talking into their sleeves in Secret Service style. Their biggest responsibility in this non-eventful procession seemed to be to intercept nuns of the Missionaries of Charity—the order founded by Mother Theresa—as some reached into the aisle toward the pontiff for his attention.
In a massive, beautiful cathedral filled with riches, nuns who work in some of most impoverished and desperate of worlds reach out to find some special if only momentary attention from the man in the fanciest of vestments who is visiting from his palace in Rome, who would soon depart up Fifth Avenue in his specially modified Mercedes “Pope Mobile.” [See Matthew 21 and the original Zechariah 9:9 for contrasting imagery.]
In terms of godliness, what does the Pope have that the nun does not that creates such a disparity? What is lacking in her that she feels she must beg for his attention? What does the Pope have such that he requires protection from her? Can the gap be closed with only a word, a glance, or a touch?
Man’s capacity for spirituality and faith are a wonderful things, but they are much too easily perverted. You must ask yourself: Are you not already complete? Is God not already fully realized within you? What do you suspect can be found outside of yourself?