Last night I had one of those long, extraordinarily vivid dreams, where I can go off on tangents within the dream (the fabric of her robes and how she addressed the Ambassador), but I can always return to the strong central narrative. As often happens, the details began to fade as soon as I awoke.
However, I can remember the main idea. The new Pope was a woman. She was of French nationality but of north African origin. Her election was unchallenged and popular with non-Catholics. In her first speech, to dignitaries, she singled out the (also female) Ambassador of a communist or non-Catholic African country (the details blur here). I enjoyed the dream a lot. It was only when I woke up that I remembered she couldn’t be elected because there aren’t any female cardinals. Oh wait, there aren’t any female priests either. Duh.
It reminded me of a joke, originally about Jesse Jackson.
An African nun praying.
- Oh Lord, how long before we have an African Pope?
-Not in your lifetime, replies God.
-And how long before we have a female Pope?
-Not in my lifetime.
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