Anyone who says the Catholic Church is not modernising is simply not paying attention.
First inkling for this writer (a cultural though not necessarily observant Catholic) was the incidence of senior Irish priests – most aged 80 if they were a day – live-streaming the Irish remembrance ceremony for the late Pope Francis on their phones. On their feet, they were: devices unabashedly hoist. There were even – (crosses self) – selfies. Then came the online pile-on in favour of Francis’s successor, Chicago-born Pope Leo.
Once, even the playful description of the open-topped papal touring vehicle as “the Pope-mobile” seemed on the edge of blasphemous.
Now, it has to be said, whatever those who occasioned the puff of white smoke intended, the new Pope, albeit surely unintentionally, ticks all the boxes of an internet sensation. We may be on the verge of Pope-a-Robics and Sing-Along-A-Pope.
Unlike the spartan Francis, Pope Leo has so far leaned into both his everyman appeal, and the Papacy’s colourful trappings to become – alas, there’s no other word for it – marketable.
First “viral” was his distinctly melodious singing from the balcony. It was the Regina Caeli – Gregorian chant and not exactly the sort of number contestants warble their way through on The X-Factor. But in the irrepressible view of the internet, he rocked that sucker, and chant was suddenly trending.
Among those responding with chant-ish wisdom was Father Robert Mehlhart, whose online video series, “Let’s Sing With the Pope”, correctly anticipated demand for lessons in how to sing – or more correctly intone – Marian antiphons.
The new Pope also plays Wordle, the five-letter guessing game for which the answer is as apt to be “satan” as “papal”.
Reporters pounced with equal delight on the Pope’s daily workout and his “decent” tennis playing. Where his Holiness exercises is not known. Understandably, he must now work out in mysterious ways. But one enterprising reporter tracked down the man who runs the gym in which Leo had been working out till his election, and was able to detail his regime – even giving it a try himself. “He’s Mass-fit,” concluded The Times’ Tom Kington chronicling his Holiness’s weights and reps.
The excitement in Leo’s hometown Chicago was understandably immense, and included a scramble to register “Da Pope” – a nod to the local argot – as a trademark or domain name. Jubilant researchers, Catholic and otherwise, rejoiced in turning up pictures of Leo wearing a White Sox cap and professing his allegiance to other Illinois sporting mainstays.
On a more liturgical note, there’s avid interest in a possible new Vatican approach to Latin. Catholicism is not the only faith to wrestle with whether what many view as the beauty and mystery of Latin in services is taonga or an outmoded barrier to maintaining and building congregations. Numerous dissenting sects worldwide continue to worship in Latin, despite Francis’s restrictions on reciting the traditional Latin Mass.
The latest Church of England spat involves a vicar who banned a choir from singing in Latin, leading to its resignation and a decimation of local church attendance.
Leo addressing his first blessing in Latin has been widely viewed as a hopeful sign for the pro-Latin lobby. British Catholic journalist Tim Stanley, who boasts having shaken Leo’s hand that day, said there was joy at his use of ancient lingo. “He has a Classics master’s diction,” Stanley wrote, adding less charitably, “Francis sounded like Fidel Castro ordering cannelloni.”
The new Pope having, in modern parlance, broken the internet, we’re now into pioneering territory as to how to remain suitably respectful.Perhaps the best course is that recommended by Father Ted’s colleague, Father Jack Hackett: “That would be an ecumenical matter.”
