You know, it’s easy for me to get upset when I hear an opinion that doesn’t mesh with my own.

And I think that feeling’s always a little bit amplified when a clashing opinion comes from someone for whom I’ve grown an affinity. Like the pope. Ya know – the cool pope. Pope Francis – the one who sweetly interrupts a large, public, recorded event to acknowledge a kid who’s run up to him. Pope Francis – who used to be a bouncer. Pope Francis who invited a transgender person to church when their own church rejected them.

That’s the pope that I liked – and this new information about him calling childless-by-choice-couples “selfish” seems like a bitter pill swallow (albeit less bitter for many than the effects of not swallowing an actual birth control pill.) It’s like when Gabby Bernstein stopped being vegan. At first I thought, “but your tips helped me go vegan!” For a half minute, I felt a kinda mental monkey wrench in my dome.

But what I learned after that was prettymuch uh-mazing.

Well, yes. That’s the simplified version. (Also, it’s funny ’cause she’s eating some kinda mystery meat.)

The yes-and to that is that the greatest moment that can happen for those of us seeking answers from “heroes” – is what happens after they fall; what happens when we approach the pieces of our fallen porcelain idols. If we’ve done our part while learning from them, we come to realize we’ve gleaned informational gems from them, but don’t worship them to the point where it’s devastating the moment they collapse from their pedestals. Rather, we still can accept and identify with those broken pieces even better – now that they’re down on our level. Imperfect. Like us. And that’s where the pope should be if any’a us esteemed him as “better” than ourselves… and suddenly don’t now.

The pope is just a man.

Did’ya know his real name’s Jorge Mario Bergoglio?

I mean, really. Without the hat and title and pinecone scepter, he’s just George.

George. Mr. Bergoglio. Could be the guy next door who argues with his wife loudly, rocks a wifebeater with pit stains, and own the pizzeria down the street that always just barely passes inspection. But he doesn’t. He’s king of Vatican City (although – who knows? Maybe he wears the same thing Aquaforce Carl does under that robe). And he’s got some great qualities I agree with and some beliefs that I don’t. So, instead of getting butt hurt over that and hoping his popemobile spontaneously combusts, there’s a solution within this kerfuffle: focus on the beliefs, practices, or whatever Mr. B has said that you know to be true in lieu. Why? Not because Catholicism is the way (I’m not even part’a their club) and not ’cause we should make him some infallible idol in our minds – quite the opposite. When we do this with anyone at all, we can acknowledge they (just like you ‘n me) are this whole package like us – half fcck-uppery we remember we don’t want to be like, and half great things we do wanna emulate. In that way, it’s not about them but us and how we wanna feel long term. The brain habit of accepting people for who they are (versus ruminating on their defects or unconditionally venerating all they stand for – equally bad practices alike) keeps us feeling less like separate competitive assholes. It keeps us more connected, elevated, less likely to become one of those miserable old people with forehead frown lines. So, I suppose what I’m saying is – if you feel like you’d suck at parenting (and there are legit reasons; blog here on that), don’t feel shamed into having an actual baby. But don’t throw the metaphorical baby out with the holy water. (AKA all’a the thumbs up messages Jorge has had to say)

It’s just his belief system – not yours or mine.

The gears turning in other people’s mind motors don’t hafta synch up with ours. When they do, it’s nice. But when they don’t, we needn’t judge it. Can you imagine how annoying it’d be to find someone who agreed with everything you said, did, or believed? (I had a friend like that once; I didn’t trust him.) It may sound counterintuitive – not judging a man who’s judging you out loud because you’re not breeding. But that’s where you know you’re more enlightened than the pope – when you can draw on his more admirable and compassionate qualities to transcend his more narrow-minded moments. Yes, he’s megaphoning it to the masses, but the fact remains: the beliefs come from the inside of one man’s body – a body which also secretes noxious odors, bile, and diarrhea. Why would I make one human’s mental effluvia any more infallible or important than the other (more tangible – but equally offensive) emissions that ooze outta that same body? Why would I care? Who’m I to bother with any of it? In fact, it’s like this great reply I once heard to the inquiry “What’s your opinion on homosexuality?”

The answer? “Who am I to judge?”

The answerer?

Pope Jorge himself.