One of us

What if God was one of us,
Just a slob like one of us,
Just a stranger on the bus trying to make his way home,
Just trying to make his way home, just like a holy rolling stone?
Back up to heaven all alone, just trying to make his way home.
Nobody calling on the phone, …’Cept for the Pope maybe in Rome
From the song One of us by Eric M. Bazilian.

The papers have already been replete with anecdotes about the common touch of Pope Francis—about his choice to live in modest lodgings, or his acceptance of the gift of a used car (a 1984 Renault) to drive himself around. Now, the New York Times reports that the Pope has taken to phoning people who write to him.

The stories are heartwarming. For example, a Michele Ferri of Pesaro, Italy was startled to answer his phone and hear “Hello, Michele, it’s Pope Francis.” Mr. Ferri thought it was a joke, but the caller mentioned something only the addresee of his letter would know. Mr. Ferri had written the Pope after a series of tragedies, such as the killing of his brother in a gas station robbery, left him demoralized. The caller told Ferri that the letter had made him cry; and Ferri in turn said the call gave him “comfort and hope” and filled him with “great emotion.”

Now this Pope has either got a great PR team, or he has the common touch; or quite possibly both.

You can imagine the obstacles that this method of communication must have. For the Pope, there is a difficulty in convincing the caller that you are who you say you are. “… and I’m the Pope!” is a common skeptic’s response to an out of the blue call from a lesser celebrity such as one of the Frere Brothers. “No, I am” is the confusing response the Pope will have to give. “Oh yeah, so what book am I reading right now, Mr. Shoes of the Fisherman.” “I haven’t a clue: I never claimed to be clairvoyant. I was just watching the soccer game and thought well, it’s halftime, why don’t I stretch my legs and do a little outreach. Are you a soccer fan?” “Yeah, right, listen buddy, you can’t fool me. Let me speak to your manager.” “But I don’t have a …” Slam. Sigh.

Of course, the uncertainty works the other way as well. The Vatican has denied reports that the Pope called the President of Syria and a gay man in France; so a person who receives a call purporting to be from the Vatican has to be on his or her guard if a caller claims to be the Pope. Ask for a callback number: it could be someone trying to sell you duct cleaning, or telling you you have already won a Caribbean vacation; or just trying to have a little harmless fun at your expense.

Some Vatican officials, says the New York Times, are also expressing concern that individuals who don’t receive a call will become disheartened. Now hold on a minute. The Queen doesn’t shake everyone’s hand when she goes walkabout, and her handlers aren’t insisting she cut it out because not everyone got their hand shaken. And it’s not as if he’s making like a U.S. president and selling the right to receive a phone call, like the opportunity to become an ambassador or to sleep in the White House, to the highest bidder.

Besides, just how many world leaders could actually find themselves welcome if they made an unsolicited phone call. Imagine one of the great statesmen of our time—our Dear Leader (TM), the current prime minister—adopting a similar technique. The conversation might quickly mire in invective. “Stephen Harper? Stephen @#ing Harper! First of all, do you realize you’re calling me when Coach’s Corner is just about to start? And second, don’t think that this proroguing trick is going to make me forget it was you who appointed Mike Duffy to the Senate. Wait a second, my wife has something she wants to say…” Click, followed by dial tone.

For my money, Pope Francis is on the right track. I just hope Vatican officials give him the slack he needs to follow his instincts. And if the Pope is one of us, then as the song says, can God be much more than a phone call away?

dsimmonds@wellingtontimes.ca