- The Queen Father
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Ovviamente, col Natale alle porte, non potevo resistere alla tentazione di fare un po' di iconoclastia.
Of course, with Christmas approaching, I could not resist the temptation to indulge in a little iconoclasm.Not that I'm a pathological contrarian, but last Saturday, over a lovely lunch with some dear friends, I bashed my face against a rather interesting perspective.
Now, I do not mean that this is completely original, I may have discovered hot water all over again, but you know what? Someone would have had to discover hot water for the first time a long time ago, and maybe he/she (I am all for the equality of sexes and strongly believe that women are more intelligent than men…) smacked his/her hand on the forehead. Just like I did two days ago.
So, imagine two thousand and ten years ago: Year Zero.
Somewhere in the Middle East, among date palms and olive trees, it’s the midnight. Farm animals and men observe in silence the night sky dotted with stars, where one star, much bigger and brighter than the others, it’s just stopped after a long journey across the blue.It seems to be pointing at something.
On the horizon, fading like a watercolor, a jingle of bells announces the arrival of three men that came from far away. Three old men, imposing, their countenance royal, covered with precious fabrics and bearing of gifts. They ask around about a child, perhaps already born. They call him the king of kings. They’ve been traveling following the star that now seems to have stopped.
Ok, Ok .... Stop the tape ....
Nine months earlier, a young girl cannot sleep. It's a winter night, the full moon rolls slowly into the cold darkness of the night and the girl cannot sleep. Then she jumps up, alarmed by the sudden presence of a handsome young man in her room. Dressed in light, radiating glory from his face that says to her:
"You are the chosen one. You shall carry in your womb the Lord’s son....". The girl lowered her head respectfully, accepting her fate. She’ll be the mother of the Son of God.
Now, we Catholics call this event "Immaculate Conception", but in reality, if we skip, for once, the solemn and deliberately theatrical tone, we are talking about something that has more tongues wagging now than it had two thousand years ago: surrogacy! Jesus is the most famous baby born through surrogacy in history. A prophet that was conceived in a test tube without the tube (…but only God could do that ...).
I suppose that the fact that the girl was Mary and that the intended parent was God Himself gets some recriminating folks to close both eyes, including the pope. Obviously, the fact that our surrogate mother is an American woman of 30 and that we, a gay couple, are the intended parents, warrants the invitation from the church to the opening of every circle of hell.
But hey! Don’t forget that Jesus plays for our team! I mean, my son’s team. He was a surrogacy baby!
I can proudly say that my son too was born through Immaculate Conception, but I hope he will not try to save anyone from original sin 'cause it’s really not worth it. We never learn. Let everyone save their own butts.
Am I sinning of pride?