Hey, Jesus, is this what you meant?

The New Testament encourages people to shun wealth, love thy neighbor, be a Good Samaritan, cast your bread upon the waters, judge not lest ye be judged, and all kinds of other neat ideas for people to live together in peace. Of course any sane person will note that these are virtues one can practice at home or just about any place without significant instruction. But along the way Catholic clerics decided that people couldn't follow the teachings of Jesus unless they were taught how in costly churches, cathedrals and—wonder of wonders—St. Peter's in Rome, the Rolls Royce of churches. And no ordinary teachers like the drably robed Jesus would do. No you needed to have someone in luxurious vestments, with gold trimmed mitres, carrying jeweled crosses swishing down thickly embroidered carpets in the glow of million dollar stained-glassed windows And it had to be a man. Not because Jesus said so, but just because.  Of course all this pageantry doesn't come cheap, so these clever developers of religion also devised the collection plates and—even better—tithing. What a concept. Now they not only had money for elaborate churches, but enough left over so the priests could travel around in the latest cars, drink the finest wine, dine in the best restaurants, sleep on the finest beds beneath the finest linens. And in many cases, you could even invite a young lad to share your bed for being such a diligent and discreet altar boy. Of course there is some work involved. I mean just getting dressed is a chore. Then you have to listen to all those salacious confessions. And, of course, you have to remain celibate (wink, wink). And convincing all those poor people to stop practicing birth control is a job in itself. But the good news is that nobody seems to have caught on to this scam. The Vatican is still rolling in money. Catholic churches all over the world still seem to be busy and those collection plates still get filled. And people are still going hungry and homeless and dying from treatable diseases. So isn't it nice to know that if it's raining in Rome the Pope's butler is holding an umbrella over his precious head so it won't get wet.

Note: Coming from Boston, I was always amazed when I went to any expensive restaurant how many priests were dining there and having wine. Knowing how much the bill would be, it seemed to me that they—men of God—would rather spend that money on Boston's poor, of which here were many. Ah,

the naivete of youth.