THE MAN WHO DROVE
HIS BENTLEY TO
THE ROMAN
CATHOLIC
CHURCH
Well, it was a Sunday - a nice cool morning, crisp with
a new Fall. Maybe that was the connection he sought?
He'd parked, right out front, all his riches and gold.
Not quite a Popemobile, but close enough to darning
on a new pair of socks. 'What was your reason?' I asked
as I passed. I was walking along, not part of that mass.
-
He stumbled, his face a bit wan. I continued, 'Isn't there
something about Pride in that mess of a missal you're
bearing, also nicely leather-sheathed, I notice?' His
response was startling and spoken with class : 'I wish
to pass no judgement on others, such as it is, those
who have not, or those who have not this, yet strive.
I wish to show my thankfulness to God, for this
success and for keeping me alive.'
-
I faltered, and gave it up. I accepted his new claims and
kept counsel with my own - knowing I'd not understand
these things or these people, as far as I may roam.
Can I get me an 'amen' to that?
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