At a time when nothing
seems funny in the church anymore, I thought these stories might make you
smile.
Cardinal Alfredo Ottaviani, a tenacious
watchdog of orthodoxy, was a major defender of the status quo at the Second
Vatican Council. One story from Vatican II days had him hopping into a Roman
taxicab and exclaiming to the driver, “Take me to the Council!” His reputation
solidly entrenched in people’s minds, the cab driver headed for the city of
Trent (the scene of a council 400 years before).
When Bishop Carroll
Dozier became Bishop of Memphis, Tenn., in 1971, he soon scheduled a general
absolution ceremony in a sports arena. Some 14,000 showed up. Rome did not
approve of general absolution except for emergency circumstances, such as
existed in battle areas during World War II. Bishop Dozier blamed Cardinal
Spellman of New York when he was summoned to Rome to appear before the
Congregation for Divine Worship and Discipline of the Sacraments to be reproved
and directed not to repeat the ceremony.
When Bishop Dozier’s
plane circled New York in preparation for landing, an unchastened Bishop Dozier
joshed to a friend, “I looked out the window, raised my right hand and absolved
the whole city of New York – everyone, that is, except Cardinal Spellman!”
When Cardinal Sarto of
Venice was elected Pope Pius X, he had pawned all his personal possessions to
help the poor. When it came time for him to appear on the balcony overlooking
St. Peter’s Square after his election as pope, all he had was a cheap tin
cross, because he had pawned his silver episcopal cross. Some were troubled,
but not the new pope. “No one will notice. It looks quite like the real thing!”
Most people have heard
Pope John XXIII’s most famous joke. He was showing a visitor around the Vatican
one day, and the visitor asked how many persons worked there. “About half,”
Pope John replied.
Cardinal Cushing of
Boston was famous for his small regard for pomp and circumstance. At
confirmation ceremonies, he would pace about and ask those to be confirmed
questions from the catechism. He posed easy questions and glossed over
blunders.
At one such ceremony, Cardinal
Cushing came across Michael Cronin, son of Joe Cronin, then manager of the
Boston Red Sox. “Who made the world?” Cardinal Cushing asked Michael. “God made
the world,” said Michael. “Who made the Red Sox?” Cardinal Cushing countered.
“Tom Yawkey,” declared the youth, citing the then-current owner of the Red Sox.
Cardinal Cushing waited for the laughter to subside, then said: “You certainly
know your catechism!”
Bishop Sheen, a great fund raiser for the
missions, liked to tell the story of a young girl who was hugely successful
raising money for the missions. Many of her customers returned three or four
times. Her mother asked her where she was getting all the lemonade. The girl
answered, “From the cocktail shaker you had in the icebox.”
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