‘Pope Nuclia’ has a nice ring to it…

Holy smokes. The pope resigned. The leader of the Roman Catholic Church, the right hand man of God, is calling it quits. The pope is supposed to be God’s own megaphone right here on earth. God whispers in the pope’s ear and the pope yells out what’s on God’s mind. Apparently what’s on God’s mind is, “You suck. You’re fired.”

I suppose he must have not read the job contract closely enough. The last time I checked, you sign up for pope and death is your retirement plan.

So the leader of a church who says that gays cannot get married, and straights cannot get divorced, just up and quits. Is that an example?

You might be thinking. “Nuclia, you’re being a bit harsh on old Benedict XI. He was a Hitler youth and all, but insists he was never part of the Nazi party.” Well, bless his heart. My bitterness stems because at one time I was studying to be a Catholic priest. Yes, that’s right. Instead of a dress and heels, I had plans to wear a dress and flats.

I spent four years of high school and two years of college in the Catholic seminary. And I took the vows of poverty, chastity and obedience quite seriously, though I never got to the point of actually taking the vows. My coming out of the closet fabulously derailed all of that.

Chastity was going to be easy, I thought. I was not attracted to women.  I thought that was God telling me I should be a priest. Chastity was going to be easy peasy. There was no way I was going to grope a girl, let alone have sex with her. Eww.

As for poverty, have you seen how poor the church is? Me neither. Have you ever seen a skinny priest? They are eating more than a few wafers and a glass of cheap wine, let me tell you. Poverty was not going to be a problem either.

Obedience. That was going to be the albatross hanging on my rosary. I don’t like being told what to do. I like to be the one giving the orders, not taking them. I am more “S” than “M.”

Regardless of the vows, I was prepared to take them, for life. Once you are ordained, you are a priest until you rattle those pearly gates for St. Peter to let you in. Not only could I have been a priest, why I could have been a bishop, then a cardinal, and then, ultimate of all ultimates, the pope himself. Yes, Nuclia Waste could be the one sitting on that empty papal throne. And let me tell you, I would not have let a little sickness and poor health get in the way. That’s par for the course. It just means your reign as pope is coming to an end. Stick it out. Not only do you get to hear God speaking in your ear, you’re about to see him nez a nez.

But no, Benedict is giving up those fabulous golden robes, the pointy hat and those comfy papal slippers. What I would give for a pair of comfy slippers instead of six-inch platform shoes.

So instead of praying on my knees, I’ve spent my life preying on my knees. And making the world a better place with fun and laughter. I think God will be chuckling to see my triple nipples parting the clouds on my way to heaven. Amen.