Pope Francis … open and moderate. Photograph: Riccardo De Luca/AP
I think I speak for everybody when I say that popes should be terrifying. Because that’s the point of a pope, isn’t it? To be gimlet-eyed and dictatorial and convinced of his own towering superiority over everyone else. To issue several unrealistic demands to follow the word of the Bible to the letter, ideally while simultaneously covering up all manner of dark secrets about the church’s influence and clutching obscene levels of bling. That’s what a pope should be. The last pope? Pretty much a textbook pope.
Pope Francis, though, I can’t get on board with. Don’t get me wrong, he seems like a brilliant human being. He seems kind and conscientious. He seems to realise that organised religion has lost its lustre, and he seems to understand why. He’d quite clearly be a fantastic dinner guest. I sort of wish he was my uncle. But as a pope? As a furious Old Testament pope? He’s a bit rubbish.
A case in point: Pope Francis recently revealed his top 10 tips for a happy life to an Argentinian magazine. Now, immediately, that’s a drastically unpopey thing to do. It’s the sort of lightweight, softball article that you’d expect to be farmed out to, say, a minor star of Holby City on a week where the features desk editors were all too hungover to come up with anything better. Immediately there’s a sense that the pope might be punching far below his weight.
Also, the word «tips» is problematic. There was a time when the church issued commandments. Full-on, dictated-by-God, carved-into-stone commandments. To be fair, the content of them was basic common sense – combined, they essentially amounted to «Be nice» – but at least they were direct orders. The subtext of a commandment is: «Do exactly what I say, you bastards, or I’ll bloody well eff you up something rotten.» The subtext of a tip is: «Listen guys, do you mind if I spitball an idea around with you? What’s that? Come back in five minutes? OK, no probs, really sorry for bothering you.»
It’s impossible to imagine the last pope issuing tips of any kind. In fact, through the hazy prism of memory, it’s impossible to imagine the last pope doing anything but roar full-volume, wild-eyed fire-and-brimstone sermons about the evil of contraception from a burning mountain top while smashing a golden staff into the ground again and again for emphasis. That might not be exactly what he did, but it’s certainly what I remember, and surely that’s the most important thing.
Also, if the last pope did ever stoop low enough to offer tips for a happy life to a magazine, there would only be one tip, and that tip would be «OBEY ME written in 300-point Lucida Blackletter font, which would be overlaid on a giant double-spread image of his own thundering eyes. You know, like popes are supposed to do.
However, my objections would be null and void if the pope’s tips were genuinely profound. Pope Francis is God’s representative on Earth, after all, so you’d expect his advice to be full of wisdom and insight. You’d expect it to vibrate at the boundaries of human understanding, forcing everyone to question the true meaning of life. You’d expect it to actually make people happy.
But that’s not really the case, because all the tips are so unstoppably bland. One of them is, «Be generous». Another is, «Calm down». My favourite two are basically, «Try to get Sundays off work», and «Turn off the telly when you’re eating». They barely even count as tips. They’re so inane that they may as well be reclassified as lifehacks. Hand on heart, I believe that if Pope Francis had been asked for an 11th tip, he’d have said, «Want to pour baked beans into your saucepan more efficiently? Why not try storing the tins upside down?’
The only one I can just about see myself getting behind is, «Create dignified jobs for young people», because when I was young, my job involved wearing a hairnet and selling fried bread to idiots for £3 an hour, which was comprehensively undignified. But then again, I’m old now. If an underpaid youngster in a hairnet isn’t going to sell me fried bread, then who will? My desire for fried bread easily outweighs my desire to give a young person their dignity. «Eat more fried bread» – that’s what that tip should have been. It would have made everyone happy.
Admittedly it’s easy for me to pass blithe judgments like this, because I’m not that bothered. I’m so unfussed about religion that I can’t even get it together enough to be properly atheist. There might be a God. There might not. I’m sure someone will let me know once it’s been definitively sorted out. For all I know, Pope Francis’s open and moderate approach to religion has been enormously helpful to the millions of Catholics who felt stymied and broken throughout the ultra-conservative Benedict years.
But in terms of pure spectacle, he’s a total letdown. I want popes to be terrifying and outdated. Saying sensible things in easily accessible ways to publications that directly connect to his congregation? What a swizz.
I think I speak for everybody when I say that popes should be terrifying. Because that’s the point of a pope, isn’t it? To be gimlet-eyed and dictatorial and convinced of his own towering superiority over everyone else. To issue several unrealistic demands to follow the word of the Bible to the letter, ideally while simultaneously covering up all manner of dark secrets about the church’s influence and clutching obscene levels of bling. That’s what a pope should be. The last pope? Pretty much a textbook pope.
Pope Francis, though, I can’t get on board with. Don’t get me wrong, he seems like a brilliant human being. He seems kind and conscientious. He seems to realise that organised religion has lost its lustre, and he seems to understand why. He’d quite clearly be a fantastic dinner guest. I sort of wish he was my uncle. But as a pope? As a furious Old Testament pope? He’s a bit rubbish.
A case in point: Pope Francis recently revealed his top 10 tips for a happy life to an Argentinian magazine. Now, immediately, that’s a drastically unpopey thing to do. It’s the sort of lightweight, softball article that you’d expect to be farmed out to, say, a minor star of Holby City on a week where the features desk editors were all too hungover to come up with anything better. Immediately there’s a sense that the pope might be punching far below his weight.
Also, the word «tips» is problematic. There was a time when the church issued commandments. Full-on, dictated-by-God, carved-into-stone commandments. To be fair, the content of them was basic common sense – combined, they essentially amounted to «Be nice» – but at least they were direct orders. The subtext of a commandment is: «Do exactly what I say, you bastards, or I’ll bloody well eff you up something rotten.» The subtext of a tip is: «Listen guys, do you mind if I spitball an idea around with you? What’s that? Come back in five minutes? OK, no probs, really sorry for bothering you.»
It’s impossible to imagine the last pope issuing tips of any kind. In fact, through the hazy prism of memory, it’s impossible to imagine the last pope doing anything but roar full-volume, wild-eyed fire-and-brimstone sermons about the evil of contraception from a burning mountain top while smashing a golden staff into the ground again and again for emphasis. That might not be exactly what he did, but it’s certainly what I remember, and surely that’s the most important thing.
Also, if the last pope did ever stoop low enough to offer tips for a happy life to a magazine, there would only be one tip, and that tip would be «OBEY ME written in 300-point Lucida Blackletter font, which would be overlaid on a giant double-spread image of his own thundering eyes. You know, like popes are supposed to do.
However, my objections would be null and void if the pope’s tips were genuinely profound. Pope Francis is God’s representative on Earth, after all, so you’d expect his advice to be full of wisdom and insight. You’d expect it to vibrate at the boundaries of human understanding, forcing everyone to question the true meaning of life. You’d expect it to actually make people happy.
But that’s not really the case, because all the tips are so unstoppably bland. One of them is, «Be generous». Another is, «Calm down». My favourite two are basically, «Try to get Sundays off work», and «Turn off the telly when you’re eating». They barely even count as tips. They’re so inane that they may as well be reclassified as lifehacks. Hand on heart, I believe that if Pope Francis had been asked for an 11th tip, he’d have said, «Want to pour baked beans into your saucepan more efficiently? Why not try storing the tins upside down?’
The only one I can just about see myself getting behind is, «Create dignified jobs for young people», because when I was young, my job involved wearing a hairnet and selling fried bread to idiots for £3 an hour, which was comprehensively undignified. But then again, I’m old now. If an underpaid youngster in a hairnet isn’t going to sell me fried bread, then who will? My desire for fried bread easily outweighs my desire to give a young person their dignity. «Eat more fried bread» – that’s what that tip should have been. It would have made everyone happy.
Admittedly it’s easy for me to pass blithe judgments like this, because I’m not that bothered. I’m so unfussed about religion that I can’t even get it together enough to be properly atheist. There might be a God. There might not. I’m sure someone will let me know once it’s been definitively sorted out. For all I know, Pope Francis’s open and moderate approach to religion has been enormously helpful to the millions of Catholics who felt stymied and broken throughout the ultra-conservative Benedict years.
But in terms of pure spectacle, he’s a total letdown. I want popes to be terrifying and outdated. Saying sensible things in easily accessible ways to publications that directly connect to his congregation? What a swizz.
