Benedict’s legacy won’t be his resignation, rather his indignation towards the LGBTQ+ community’s health, well-being, and marriages.
It was April in 2008, and I was walking down first avenue in Manhattan, when I was stopped by the police at 86th Street. I noticed that there were people congregating along the road – not a lot, but enough to know that someone important was coming by.
“Who is it this time?” I asked the cop who stopped me. “It’s the Pope,” he said.
Sure enough, a couple of minutes later Pope Benedict’s motorcade drove by. He was sitting in a limousine behind the passenger seat, which was the side of the street I was on, so I saw him up close. The first thing I noticed was how small he was. His head, adorned with the ever-present white cap, or zucchetto, barely cleared the window. Rather than engage the people lined up on the street, Benedict stared straight ahead. He seemed cold and distant.
A few days later, I had lunch with my wonderful friend, the late Father Angelo, and I told him that I had seen the Pope. He looked up at me with disappointment in his eyes, and shot back, “Why would you want to see him?”
Exactly.
