It's Hard To Be A Saint In The City

I'm just a little let down. I didn't expect that I had the right stuff, but to be passed over yet again for the papacy just leaves me a little hollow. As I mentioned, this isn't the first time. I've been overlooked five times since I was first eligible. Of course, in those fifty-plus years I've done a number of things that may have kept me from being included on the "short list" for voting by the cardinal's conclave. Mostly drinking and swearing. But over the past twenty years, I've managed to get rid of the drinking entirely, and the swearing is pretty much at its lowest ebb that I can imagine. Maybe it's all the times I've taken the Lord's name in vain on Sunday afternoons. Especially in the Fall.
I suppose I've worshiped false idols, though I don't think Bruce Springsteen counts as "false." Maybe I haven't spent the time I should with the Good Book, though I have read many. As far as the Word of God goes, I may have exposed a weakness when I took that class in college titled "The Bible As Literature." Looking back over the past fifteen years, I would have to say that my work with underprivileged children should count for something, even if my approach varies from that of the standard Catholic practice.
If I had been picked, I would have brought a breath of fresh air to the Vatican, and I would have done so with two good lungs. The fact that I was not born or raised in the Catholic Church really worked against me, I suspect. I also suspect that the way I'm reacting to this news will probably keep me from getting a fair shake in the next few years when Pope Francis ends up retiring to go on the road with his folk rock band, The Holy Rollers.
Oh well. There's always Buddha.