I like Rick Steves. Do you know Rick? He just seems so familiar to me through his PBS television series Rick Steves’ Europe, that I feel chummy enough with him to just refer to him as “Rick”. It’s like when you were a kid, and you built up your Cool Capital by bragging about who you know. You got special cool points if whomever you were claiming onto your “friends list” is a few years older and your audience knows who s/he is. “Oh yeah, Bono? I know him. We hang out all the time.” Let that soak in for a few seconds into the sponge-like minds of your audience as you contain your nervous anticipation to drop the bomb on them: “He’s pretty cool…” You just let them contemplate that one! He’s pretty cool. That gives the peons the impression that in my definition, he’s cool enough, but there’s still room for improvement to meet my standard of cool. You wanna know cool? Stick with me, kid!
Where was I? Ah, yes. My friend, Rick. Rick’s done well for himself. He gets to travel to Europe with his entourage consisting of a camera and boom man, to share tips and cultural information of different countries and locales, opening doors to a different world and life outside of our United States. What a job! He’s been doing this for decades, and has even had opportunities to take his family there as part of his work! Wow. He’s quite the likable host as he vacations and teaches his audience. I am not suggesting that just anyone can do this, either. He is good at what he does and I like him. Therefore yes, I shall lay claim to Rick as a friend. Rick? He’s cool. He’s been my friend for years!
I was driving to the Home Depot (instead of the local hardware store because I fell prey to the mindless decision-making of everyday contemporary American life) to purchase some air filters for the house. On the radio, my boy Rick’s radio show was playing. He was talking about various Catholic relics and his guest was apparently some guy who was doing research on some of the more embarrassing relics that the Catholic religion has had to deal with. Now relics are gross and macabre to begin with. I’ve seen photos of an arm encased in gold and jewels, purportedly that of one of the Apostles, like Luke or somebody. It’s a bit disturbing to see an arm just chillin’ out decked out in bling. Then people come from all over the place, drawn to worship it. There’s not even an authentication process like they do in MLB homerun balls. Even Barry Bonds’ record-breaking home run ball can be authenticated. But this arm? Not so much.
Relics are strange. They’re disturbing to me because they all too often end up being a body part of a supposed important dead person. The pilgrims then make arduous treks to be in its presence so as to experience a holy moment. (At least in other parts of the world, the people physically trek to their respective locales, like going to Mecca, taking a pilgrimage through the Basque country, or a Buddhist pilgrimage to Kapilavastu. In the United States, people just drive and then pray. Okay. Maybe that’s an oversimplification with regards to Americans, such as hopping into the car and driving to the Shrine of the Holy Relics in Maria Stein, Ohio. Don't forget to check out the gift shop, pilgrims. Forgive me! WWJD?)
Now I am not dissing anyone who goes to such places as the Shrine of the Holy Relics in order to have a spiritual experience. To each his/her own. However, it is my personal opinion that these supposed body parts of important people in Judeo-Christian History are suspect. I believe that it’s more likely to be some schmo’s arm or leg or toenail or dingle-berry. Again, let me stress that I mean no disrespect! I just find it unlikely that it’s really Ezekiel’s toe-jam, you know? As they say in the English vernacular, I’m just sayin’! Ya’ dig?
As mentioned, I heard today that there is indeed a Holy Foreskin, the very foreskin of Jesus Christ himself! There were many Holy Foreskins at one time that people paid homage to. But the Catholic Church put a kibosh on that. But why? Jesus’ penis and subsequent circumcision is holy, is it not? Jesus. I’m going to hell for this one. I mean, I’m already damned to hell, but this one has guaranteed my entrance. At least I’ll be with my boy Rick… Well, maybe not, since he’s so professional, he didn’t question it or make suggestive statements that could be construed as disrespect. Comrades, let us pray… for me!
Through my frivolous research, I have learned that there were as many as 18 different Holy Foreskins throughout Europe in the Middle Ages. The official decree of kiboshitude on the subject of the Holy Penis occurred in 1900 when the Roman Catholic Church exclaimed in authoritative fashion, “no way, dudes! You shall not speak of our Christ Jesus’ peepee lest you be excommunicated from our club!” Now, that isn’t an exact quote, but you get the idea. Perhaps that is when the whole problem with sexually acting-out priests really escalated. Forgive me! I couldn’t resist! I am a sinner! (I’m really going to hell…)
Religion is good. I really do think so. Not necessarily for me, but good for many people, and good for the whole of society. But it’s bad, too. Terrible, as a matter of fact, considering how many wars and deaths have occurred in the name of the father. But more importantly, who knew Jesus had 18 penises? Now that is a real man! I feel guilty writing this, even as I guffaw quietly as I contemplate this whole subject. I now realize that Catholic Guilt is truly something to be reckoned with. I mean not, to poke fun. Really! It’s just that this whole thing is crazy, no?
Good people, I just felt the need to share this fact of human history. It is a history that we all share in the short time that we walk upon this earth, our dear planet. Be good to yourself and be good to each other. If all religions simply stressed this, and this alone, maybe we would be in a more peaceful world. (I would also add be good to Mother. Mother Earth, that is.) But money, status, popularity, having an extensive friends list via social media, and absolute power over one’s minion takes precedence in this world while one walks upon it. Let us question some of these things, shall we? I don’t mean simply to question whether Jesus had multiple penises that manifested into omnipresent Holy Foreskins, but just to consider what is really important. Did you see the cute little girl kissing the golden hand of St. Gregory in the link above? Eerie. Strange. Scary. Gross. Let us pray… for us all.
