Roscoe

Roscoe and the Pope

As he walked along the river road, Roscoe saw the Pope riding the Papal bicycle up from the quay, and he said, “Hello, Pope, where are you headed?” The Pope explained that Patsy had invited him to judge a fox-trot contest at the Armory, a fundraiser for the Little Sisters of the Poor.

“I was rereading Habakkuk, Your Holiness,” Roscoe said, “and I wonder, as Habakkuk did, how can God remain silent while the wicked prosper?”

“Remember, my son, that God reassured Habakkuk that the divine way will prevail over wickedness. But it takes a while.”

“How can he let the arrogant and the rapacious survive, while the innocent suffer?” Roscoe asked.

“God did say he would subdue the drought god Mot and the sea god Yam,” said the Pope.

“Mot and Yam, it’s a beginning,” Roscoe said. “But what about the damn Governor?”

“Woe to him,” said the Pope, “who builds a town with blood, and founds a city on iniquity.”

“Are you talking about any town I know?” Roscoe asked.

But the Pope was already cycling on to the dance.