#896 Parish the Word

So the other day I was confronted with my lack of Catholic-ness. Or is that Catholicity?
To be or not to be a Catholic was once a very big deal. When John F. Kennedy ran for president in 1959, the right-wing commentators of the time wrung their hands about how he would promote the Catholic agenda. How he would be answerable to the Pope first and his country second. How dangerous it was to put a man in the White House who answered to a higher power.
Seems crazy today, especially since if a man running for president isn’t a Christian of some sort answering to a higher power, he doesn’t stand a chance in hell of getting elected.
Be that as it may, this weekend I was confronted with my Catholic ignorance. One of the people I was to introduce at an event was called an Abbot and the other had his title abbreviated “Fr.”
When it came time to bring the Abbot up to the stage, of course I wanted to yell out, Hey Abbotttttt! Like in the Abbot and Costello movies.
But I restrained myself.
The Fr. guy I wasn’t sure what to call. Because I didn’t know what Fr. stood for. Was it Friar, as in Friar Tuck? Was it some Latin abbreviation, short for fraternal, meaning Brother? Was it French, like Frere, as in Jacques fame? Doesn’t Frere Jacques mean Brother John?
Finally, after an exhausting Google search lasting 6 minutes, I was able to determine that Fr. was the abbreviation for Father. Obvious to you Catholics, completely obscure to a protestant raised in all protestant institutions.
Our Ministers were not addressed as Fathers. But they were Doctors of Divinity. As a kid I thought that meant they made that really good candy my granny brought over every Christmas.
I think a Catholic was in charge of a recent food bank event, though. His flier said to bring “nonparishable food.”
He spelled the perish part p-a-r-i-s-h-. So I guess, instead of telling us to bring food that wouldn’t go rotten, he was telling us to bring food that wouldn’t be accepted in a Catholic Parish.
America, ya gotta love it.