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Sunday, April 03, 2005
If You Can't Say Anything Nasty...
Pope John Paul II's death continues to hold the media in thrall, of course, and I'm not the only one noticing how surreal this experience can get. Oddly enough - well, not so odd for me - I find myself thinking about the Pope's contributions to pop culture. Five things immediately come to mind.
First, being a fanboy, there's the Pope John Paul II comic that came out from Marvel over twenty years ago, and if I remember right it was after that assassination attempt and during his first visit to the United States. I read an uncle's copy of it when I was much younger, being warned to be careful because it was so expensive (by comic book standards at the time, it was) and that it'd be worth a lot of money someday (who knows, maybe it is). The comic was a four-color hagiography, the kind of glossed-over fit-for-children biographical ass-kissing one would expect when an immature medium and a company used to dealing with overmuscled men in tights must discuss a major religious leader. Being one of those people who remembers his comic book experiences more than anything else from childhood, I faintly recall descriptions of how the young Karol Wojtyla had a (safely) mischievous side but always in the service of God, and of course how shocked the much-older Cardinal Wojtyla was to be named Pope. (No one in these biographies seem to pursue greatness all the way to the end - in a show of generic humility, they have to have it thrust upon them.)
The art was pedestrian, the story heavily expository. The comic book critic in me disdained it then and disdains it now. That said, such comic book bios was more common in the sixties - for instance, I used to have a copy of Adlai Stevenson #1. So it made sense, in its own way.
Second, I think of how the assassination led to the creation of the bulletproof Popemobile. I love that word. "Popemobile." With its connotations of Batman and especially the Adam West TV show - one imagines the pontiff yelling, "Quick! To the Popemobile!" to a Burt-Ward-esque cardinal - there was something fun and funny about the term.
Third in my Pope pop cultural reminiscences, I think of the recent invitation to have breakdancers perform in front of His Eminence. That was a surreal moment but I think also underlines how open-minded and welcoming of youth the Pope was. That said, I'm not sure if anybody has ever rapped in front of the Pope - certainly no hardcore gangsta lyrics.
Fourth, and I know this is horrible but I've got to mention it, there's a joke stuck in my mind - and in my family's collective memory - about Jesse Jackson and some other man visiting the Pope. It's a tasteless joke which ends with the Pope apparently making the sign of the cross, Jackson thinking he received the Pope's blessing, and instead finding out that what the Pope said was, "Take you and your [expletive] friend and get the [expletive] out of here." Last night I mentioned the joke to a friend and, when he said he hadn't heard it, I made the cross gestures and then he knew perfectly well what joke I was talking about. So it isn't just me.
Fifth, and this is perhaps in worse taste of all, there's that headline from The Onion, the satire news site, "Pope Admits: 'God Ain't Said Shit to Me". The tone of the piece and the absurdity of it - as well as that memorably crass headline - has meant that, over the years, I'd recall it at odd moments and chuckle. I don't often have a taste for sacrilege, but this was a particularly funny example.
I doubt there'll be any cable news interviews with clergy that will bring up any of these five points... well, maybe the Popemobile... but instead will prattle on and on about how great this Pope was, how much he's accomplished, how much he travelled, and so on. And I can't find fault with that since Pope John Paul II most certainly led a magnificent career as pontiff. Praising his accomplishments in particular is important, if only to set a very high bar for the Vatican in selecting its new leader.
That said, it's a major pet peeve of mine that when somebody dies, people must always say the nicest thing about them possible. There's an impulse which seems perfectly natural in others - and is missing in me, which perhaps makes me a heartless bastard - to dance around the less pleasant aspects of a dead person, to find the most positive thing about the person and act as if that was the defining aspect of his life. There's even a saying for that, "don't speak ill of the dead". But why not? They're dead - it won't hurt their feelings. If you believe in the afterlife, one would hope they'd become enlightened through death and be willing to admit all the shitty things they've done while alive. We often learn more from a person's mistakes than their accomplishments. And we don't end up creating a false idol of the person but instead embrace the person's humanity.
So whenever somebody major dies and is praised repeatedly by the media - Johnnie Cochran just got this treatment, as did Terri Schiavo (I can't believe I've now mentioned her twice in this blog) - I find myself turning to the people around me and begging them to say the nastiest, rudest things about me when I'm gone. Not because I want people to be shocked or scandalized, but because I don't want to be remembered in a way that's false to who I was. And I'm not entirely nasty and crude and selfish - but hey, I got good amounts of that in me, and when I'm gone I don't want that forgotten. Treat me as a cautionary tale or a butt of jokes, but at least do so accurately.
Does this mean people in the media should be talking smack about the Pope? Well, he could have taken care of that American priest pedophilia scandal more stringently, set an example of zero tolerance from the very top of the Catholic hierarchy. A Pope who loves the youth of the world as much as this one did should have taken further measures to protect them. (Oddly enough, this reminds me of yet another scathing Onion headline, "Pope Forgives Molested Children" for seducing priests.) And... that's about the only negative thing I can think of, though I think most people will admit that's a fair criticism. (I could be wrong and inviting a shitstorm. I hope not.) Other stances Pope John Paul II had taken - on the status of women clergy, abortion, various political situations - are judgment calls and matters of faith, so I think it's unfair to fault him if his way of thinking doesn't necessarily match my own.
Overall, though, the Pope did lead a remarkably exemplary life. If anyone deserves a pass on the "don't forget he was human and stop saying nice things only" directive I'd love to bestow on the world, Pope John Paul II would be on the list. Maybe Mother Theresa. But that's about it. Of course, if everyone did indeed live up to those standards, maybe saying nice things after a person's death wouldn't annoy me so much to begin with.
First, being a fanboy, there's the Pope John Paul II comic that came out from Marvel over twenty years ago, and if I remember right it was after that assassination attempt and during his first visit to the United States. I read an uncle's copy of it when I was much younger, being warned to be careful because it was so expensive (by comic book standards at the time, it was) and that it'd be worth a lot of money someday (who knows, maybe it is). The comic was a four-color hagiography, the kind of glossed-over fit-for-children biographical ass-kissing one would expect when an immature medium and a company used to dealing with overmuscled men in tights must discuss a major religious leader. Being one of those people who remembers his comic book experiences more than anything else from childhood, I faintly recall descriptions of how the young Karol Wojtyla had a (safely) mischievous side but always in the service of God, and of course how shocked the much-older Cardinal Wojtyla was to be named Pope. (No one in these biographies seem to pursue greatness all the way to the end - in a show of generic humility, they have to have it thrust upon them.)
The art was pedestrian, the story heavily expository. The comic book critic in me disdained it then and disdains it now. That said, such comic book bios was more common in the sixties - for instance, I used to have a copy of Adlai Stevenson #1. So it made sense, in its own way.
Second, I think of how the assassination led to the creation of the bulletproof Popemobile. I love that word. "Popemobile." With its connotations of Batman and especially the Adam West TV show - one imagines the pontiff yelling, "Quick! To the Popemobile!" to a Burt-Ward-esque cardinal - there was something fun and funny about the term.
Third in my Pope pop cultural reminiscences, I think of the recent invitation to have breakdancers perform in front of His Eminence. That was a surreal moment but I think also underlines how open-minded and welcoming of youth the Pope was. That said, I'm not sure if anybody has ever rapped in front of the Pope - certainly no hardcore gangsta lyrics.
Fourth, and I know this is horrible but I've got to mention it, there's a joke stuck in my mind - and in my family's collective memory - about Jesse Jackson and some other man visiting the Pope. It's a tasteless joke which ends with the Pope apparently making the sign of the cross, Jackson thinking he received the Pope's blessing, and instead finding out that what the Pope said was, "Take you and your [expletive] friend and get the [expletive] out of here." Last night I mentioned the joke to a friend and, when he said he hadn't heard it, I made the cross gestures and then he knew perfectly well what joke I was talking about. So it isn't just me.
Fifth, and this is perhaps in worse taste of all, there's that headline from The Onion, the satire news site, "Pope Admits: 'God Ain't Said Shit to Me". The tone of the piece and the absurdity of it - as well as that memorably crass headline - has meant that, over the years, I'd recall it at odd moments and chuckle. I don't often have a taste for sacrilege, but this was a particularly funny example.
I doubt there'll be any cable news interviews with clergy that will bring up any of these five points... well, maybe the Popemobile... but instead will prattle on and on about how great this Pope was, how much he's accomplished, how much he travelled, and so on. And I can't find fault with that since Pope John Paul II most certainly led a magnificent career as pontiff. Praising his accomplishments in particular is important, if only to set a very high bar for the Vatican in selecting its new leader.
That said, it's a major pet peeve of mine that when somebody dies, people must always say the nicest thing about them possible. There's an impulse which seems perfectly natural in others - and is missing in me, which perhaps makes me a heartless bastard - to dance around the less pleasant aspects of a dead person, to find the most positive thing about the person and act as if that was the defining aspect of his life. There's even a saying for that, "don't speak ill of the dead". But why not? They're dead - it won't hurt their feelings. If you believe in the afterlife, one would hope they'd become enlightened through death and be willing to admit all the shitty things they've done while alive. We often learn more from a person's mistakes than their accomplishments. And we don't end up creating a false idol of the person but instead embrace the person's humanity.
So whenever somebody major dies and is praised repeatedly by the media - Johnnie Cochran just got this treatment, as did Terri Schiavo (I can't believe I've now mentioned her twice in this blog) - I find myself turning to the people around me and begging them to say the nastiest, rudest things about me when I'm gone. Not because I want people to be shocked or scandalized, but because I don't want to be remembered in a way that's false to who I was. And I'm not entirely nasty and crude and selfish - but hey, I got good amounts of that in me, and when I'm gone I don't want that forgotten. Treat me as a cautionary tale or a butt of jokes, but at least do so accurately.
Does this mean people in the media should be talking smack about the Pope? Well, he could have taken care of that American priest pedophilia scandal more stringently, set an example of zero tolerance from the very top of the Catholic hierarchy. A Pope who loves the youth of the world as much as this one did should have taken further measures to protect them. (Oddly enough, this reminds me of yet another scathing Onion headline, "Pope Forgives Molested Children" for seducing priests.) And... that's about the only negative thing I can think of, though I think most people will admit that's a fair criticism. (I could be wrong and inviting a shitstorm. I hope not.) Other stances Pope John Paul II had taken - on the status of women clergy, abortion, various political situations - are judgment calls and matters of faith, so I think it's unfair to fault him if his way of thinking doesn't necessarily match my own.
Overall, though, the Pope did lead a remarkably exemplary life. If anyone deserves a pass on the "don't forget he was human and stop saying nice things only" directive I'd love to bestow on the world, Pope John Paul II would be on the list. Maybe Mother Theresa. But that's about it. Of course, if everyone did indeed live up to those standards, maybe saying nice things after a person's death wouldn't annoy me so much to begin with.
