Pope Francis has named a new flock of Cardinals.  Most of the big-name commentators had to scramble for their Catholic directors to find out who they are; they are not from major, cosmopolitan cities or places that jetsetters in New York or Paris usually go for get-away weekends.

I read comments like….”they are from the ends of the earth”….or….”they come from the fringes”…..or…..”they are not from important places of influence.”

Frankly, this isn’t anything new, although perhaps it isn’t a recent practice.  In the year 33 BC (yes, I still use the old way of dividing time), a baby was born in Bethlehem, which wasn’t considered to be the center of the known universe.  That baby boy, Jesus, grew up in Nazareth, another place of little apparent consequence.  His dad was a carpenter and his mom just a small-town girl.  When he started his public ministry, he picked a fisherman from Galilee to help him.  And one of his greatest apostles was a tent maker from Tarsus, wherever that was.

If God had picked people from important places to do his most important work, Christ would have been born in Rome, perhaps of parents from Athens.  Jesus would have picked his aides from Alexandria, Constantinople, Syracuse and Carthage.

Instead, Christ recruited a bunch of fishmongers.

Now, I don’t mean to in any way suggest that a bishop from a large, influential city can’t be wise, holy and a great Cardinal.  But faith isn’t determined by how wide your city’s streets are, the number of Fortune 500 companies in your diocese or whether you are in the United States or Western Europe.

There were no kings or princes among Christ’s disciples.  They were poor men from a poor land in need of healing and salvation.  Those guys did a pretty good job and I expect the new cardinals will do just fine.  Besides, who is to say that wherever anyone is sitting is on the fringes?  Maybe it is the center of the universe.

Earlier this week, I read that a woman in Kansas City was ordained to the Catholic priesthood.  I am skeptical.

I’m a pretty observant guy and I’m certain that nothing has changed that would suddenly allow a woman to become a Catholic priest (not even the Huffington Post saying it happened).  In fact, if you read the news coverage, the woman declares she is an ordained priest and the media report that the Church disputes her claim.  I guess that leaves it up to the reader to decide the truth.

Why would a woman essentially ordain herself?

A – Sincere (albeit misguided) desire to offer the sacraments to others.

B – Misplaced feminist pride.

C – Heard there was great pay and solid benefits (might want to check this one).

D – Just plain old run-of-the-mill lunacy.

I’m tempted to go with “D.”  But the truth is that if this sort of thing fools at least a substantial part of the population, it is a technique I might try.  I’m working on three news releases:

1 – Jim has been named the new starting quarterback for the Chicago Bears.  Although the Bears dispute his claim, he says he is the quarterback and several close friends agree.

2 – Jim has been named to replace Bono as lead singer for U2.  A spokesman for the group disputes the claim, but Jim says it is true and that he is taking guitar lessons.

3 – In a quiet ceremony involving several retired lawyers and a semi-senile judge, Jim has been sworn in as Member of Congress for the 6^th District of Illinois.  Representative Peter Roskam of the 6^th District disputes Jim’s claim, but Jim has graciously agreed to share the job with the sitting congressman.

Is it likely I’ll really get to be a professional athlete, rock star or major politician?  No.  But it is just as likely as that woman in Kansas City really being a priest.  And at least I have my dreams.

This is not about terrorism — unless you have a deep fear of the cold.  That menacing picture is none other than your faithful blogger, gearing up to face sub-zero temperatures, wind and a driveway with a few inches of snow.

Living in the American Midwest, one gets accustomed to snow and cold.  I pity those poor folks in deprived places like Southern California; they get up every morning, look at the weather and realize it likely will never get any better.  I can look forward to spring!

Cold weather isn’t really much of a problem, at least not for people.  (Water pipes, cars, trains and some birds don’t much like it.)  No matter how cold it gets, I can always adjust by simply putting on more layers of clothing.  At some point I might be like the little brother in “A Christmas Story,” unable to move my arms and legs.  But at least I’ll be warm.

Those poor souls in hot climates are more limited.  There are only so many layers of clothes you can remove in an effort to get cool.  And even if you remove all the layers (which I don’t advocate be done in public), you will still be hot if it is more than 90 degrees.

So…I’m counting my blessings, confident that God is giving me winter so I’ll enjoy the spring.  And as long as winter continues, people can skate, ski, sled and throw snowballs.  Those folks in Southern California can’t throw sunballs.

Here in the Chicago suburban hamlet of Glen Ellyn, lights are coming off houses and brittle Christmas trees are blowing about the parkways.  The packages have been opened, unwanted gifts returned and folks are getting ready for New Year’s Eve.

Most people who have recordings of the 12 Days of Christmas have put them away until next Thanksgiving.  But we’re still in the 12 Days of Christmas.

Those special days don’t end on Christmas Day – that’s when they start (well, actually, the day AFTER Christmas).  They end on Epiphany, which comes on January 6.  Jesus was born December 25, and 12 days later the wise men showed up with their gifts.  That’s Epiphany.  And in some Christian traditions, that is when people give gifts.

That actually makes a lot of sense to me.  You have Advent to get ready for Christ’s birth, 12 days to celebrate and give thanks for his arrival, then gifts.  But I fear we’ll have one heck of a time disconnecting the perception that the 12 Days of Christmas are intimately connected to the shopping season.

If you want to listen to the song, “12 Days of Christmas,” you have almost endless options, many of them quite awful…some not so bad.  A couple versions at the extremes of musical taste:

The Muppets

The BBC Opera Stars

By the way….I will continue to wear my silly reindeer sweater until Epiphany.  It is a treasured Irish gift from my son and future daughter-in-law.

As seems to happen each Christmas, someone gives me a book I would never have bought for myself – but ought to read.  This year it is “The Spiritual Journey of George Washington,” by Janice T. Connell.  Thanks to my wife, Charmaine.

Most Americans know little about the man I learned in school to be the Father of our Country.  They may know he was the first president and spent a cold winter at Valley Forge.  (Actually, the winter at Morristown was probably worse.)

But what most folks don’t know is detailed in this book.  Washington was a deeply religious man who believed humbly in his dependence on God.  He lived by a code of life called “Rules of Civility & Decent Behavior in Company and Conversation.”  It is worth a Google search and read – rather quaint, but if we all lived by these rules the world would be a more civilized place.

Washington also had a collection of daily prayers that express his gratitude to God and ask humbly for guidance.  You get a sense of a man more concerned with doing the right thing than what was most profitable for him personally.

Maybe that is why he the only American President who was elected without opposition.

The world has an abundance of bloggers, many of them Catholic.  Among the Catholics, a large percentage are, well, a bit dour for my taste.

It is easy to find what is wrong with a parish, a diocese or even the Vatican.  But most things go rather well.  People come to the faith, follow the teachings of the Church and live happy lives, albeit with a goodly measure of pain and suffering.

What a Catholic should never lack is hope.  And in this simple blog, that is what I plan to talk about…and with a bit of humor.