Let me begin by stating the obvious. I will not be the next pope. I am not qualified on several counts. I am not Roman Catholic. I am married. I am not a cardinal. I am a member of a denomination that doesn’t even have bishops. So I won’t be waiting by my phone with baited breath as the cardinals enter into their conclave at the Vatican City to discern who should be the next pope. By many estimations, the last two conclaves have resulted in the election of the smartest man in the room. Both John Paul II and Benedict XVI were intellectual powerhouses and academics with impeccable capabilities of rational thought and argument. Being the smartest doesn’t always make one the best administrator. Being the most academic doesn’t always make one the best public representative of the institution. There is nothing in the organization of the Roman Catholic Church that dictates the cardinals must choose the smartest. They might find other qualities that are important when selecting the next pope.

They won’t be calling me.

So I’ll tell a story that I have told many times before, perhaps even in this blog. I’ll try to tell the short version. When I was a child, the Lowell Lundstrom Crusade came to my hometown. Lowell Lundsrom was a preacher who grew up on the prairies of South Dakota and eventually went on to lead a suburban mega church in Minnesota. I suppose that he came to our town in the early days of the tent revivals, but he spoke in the high school gymnasium. I can’t remember one thing of what he said. I suppose that he spoke about Jesus, the need to confess sins, repent and accept Jesus as Lord and Savior. But, as I said, I don’t remember anything about that. He did play the guitar. And he had on a white suit. But what I can remember as clearly as the day I saw him is that he had a spectacular pair of white cowboy boots. Those boots shone. They were amazing. I had never seen anything like them. I thought that if a guy could get a pair of boots like that he could go far in this life.

They didn’t sell white cowboy boots in Big Timber Montana in those days.

I never did own a pair of white cowboy boots. I do have a white Stetson hat, but that is another story completely.

But I wear cowboy boots in the pulpit. In fact I have a brand new pair waiting for Easter. They are black. I wear black or brown boots when I am preaching. There were many years when I only owned one pair and brown was my preferred color in those days. I suppose it is vanity, but the boots make me an inch taller and when you are as short as I am every inch counts. The pulpits in the churches I have served all dwarf me. They simply assume that the preacher would be taller. I preached on a Pepsi case in Hettinger. I’ve still got that box. The pulpit in the church I currently serve has a 3” riser in it that can be removed if they find a taller preacher. The part of the pulpit that holds books and papers can also be adjusted up from its current setting.

So I could never be pope. I don’t know if you know it, but the pope wears red shoes. I guess I could get a pair of red cowboy boots. I’ve seen them, but I somehow associate them with children. I’ve never been tempted by a pair of red cowboy boots.

It is a little-known fact that part of the pope retiring is that he will be trading in his red shoes. He will be known as pope emeritus, emeritus pope or in Latin pontifex emeritus. And he will wear a simple white cassock. No more elbow-length cape, called a mozzetta. And no more red shoes. It is said that the pope bought a pair of brown shoes on his trip to Mexico last year, so he’ll be prepared.

During the conclave when the cardinals are praying and discerning who the next pope will be, Benedict XVI will have moved out of the official papal residence in the Vatican and will take up temporary residence in the papal seaside retreat Castle Gandolfo. The castle, south of Rome is also known as the summer residence of popes. It has elaborate gardens and grounds, filled with statues. It is said that Benedict is fond of feeding the fish in a pool with a statue of the Virgin Mary in its center. Deep below the castle is a grotto with a cloister carved out of the stone. There is a large staff that keeps the castle ready for the pope, guards its entrances and maintains the buildings and grounds.

The pope will be in the castle as a temporary residence because the remodeling at his new permanent home is not yet completed. After the conclave when the remodeling is finished, he’ll be moving to the Mater Ecclesiae monastery, inside the Vatican state. The monastery isn’t really an elaborate cloistered residence, but rather a simple former home of nuns who were given the task of praying for the pope. There are no stone-arched hallways or massive common areas that people often think of when imagining a monastery. “It used to be the gardener’s house,” Sister Ancilla Armijo said. “It’s just a small house. What they added was just a library for the sisters and a new chapel.” When it was used by the nuns, six women lived in the house. From the house there are excellent views of the papal apartment, the Sistine Chapel and St. Peter’s Basilica. The current remodeling is focused on the kitchen area, which is in need of upgrading. The residence will also get new air conditioning, which is needed because the small house is very hot with no trees to shade it.

I think it will be a good home for a retired pope who is really more comfortable with his books than with public speaking in the first place. The academic can return to research and writing. And I’m thinking that his feet will feel good in a simple pair of brown shoes. Red shoes must be a pain to keep up anyway.

They won’t have trouble finding some other guy who wants to wear the red shoes.

Copyright © 2013 by Ted Huffman. I wrote this. If you want to copy it, please ask for permission. There is a contact me button at the bottom of this page. If you want to share my blog a friend, please direct your friend to my web site.