By Michael A. Aun
Look at the birds of the air, they neither sow nor reap nor gather into barns, yet your heavenly Father feeds them.
~Matthew 6:26
One of the great works of charity of the Knights of Columbus, the largest Catholic fraternal organization in the world, is something called the "Vicarius Christi Fund," which is a $20 million endowment earmarked for the Holy Father. The interest from this fund each year is given to the Pope for his private charities.
Because of this unique relationship between the church and the Knights of Columbus, some representatives have the honor of a private audience with the Pope from time to time. Heck, $20 million will get you dinner at the Vatican.
I've sold life insurance to Knights and their families for more than thirty years and in the mid-1990s, our family had a private audience in the Vatican. Christine and I, along with my twin sons, Cory and Jason, got to meet and shake hands with the Pope in his chambers. It was a high point in my life, to say the least.
While in Rome, it coincidentally happened that a conclave of sorts was going on during our visit. Many of the American bishops, archbishops and cardinals were in Rome at the same time.
We were delighted to meet many of them at a lovely banquet hosted on one of the Seven Hills of Rome in a setting unlike any I have ever attended. To my surprise, I met one of my old Sunday school teachers who had been a priest at St. Peter's Catholic Church in Columbia, South Carolina, where my family went to Mass every Sunday. That young priest, Father Joseph Bernardin, was now Cardinal Joseph Bernardin. He had taught many of my ten brothers and sisters while at St. Peter's, and my late parents knew his parents quite well. Still, I was surprised that he remembered the Aun name.
We were enjoying cocktails together outside the banquet chamber, under glorious trees, as the sun was setting. We shared a lovely conversation with the cardinal recalling his days at the University of South Carolina.
While talking with him, the birds came home to roost in the huge tree under which we were chatting. In the course of our conversation, one of the birds, which obviously enjoyed a bountiful day of scavenging, did what birds do when they eat their fill — it voided itself. Unfortunately, the good cardinal was right in his path.
Let the record reflect that I am a pretty quick wit and always have a comment in my hip pocket. However, you just don't tease a cardinal when a bird poops on his hat. Cardinal Bernardin felt the bird droppings hit his beanie. He reached up to see what it was and realized that he then had poop on his hand.
I didn't know where to go with this, but I knew that no confession I would ever make again would excuse me for making one of my typical off-the-cuff "poop comments." So, for once in my life, I kept my mouth shut. I did not say a word, mainly because I wanted to hear how the good cardinal was going to deal with this.
Realizing that he had been nailed by a wayward bird from above, he looked up at the tree, looked down at his hand, and then looked back up at the tree and said, "... and... for the others... you sing!"
Look at the birds of the air, they neither sow nor reap nor gather into barns, yet your heavenly Father feeds them.
~Matthew 6:26
One of the great works of charity of the Knights of Columbus, the largest Catholic fraternal organization in the world, is something called the "Vicarius Christi Fund," which is a $20 million endowment earmarked for the Holy Father. The interest from this fund each year is given to the Pope for his private charities.
Because of this unique relationship between the church and the Knights of Columbus, some representatives have the honor of a private audience with the Pope from time to time. Heck, $20 million will get you dinner at the Vatican.
I've sold life insurance to Knights and their families for more than thirty years and in the mid-1990s, our family had a private audience in the Vatican. Christine and I, along with my twin sons, Cory and Jason, got to meet and shake hands with the Pope in his chambers. It was a high point in my life, to say the least.
While in Rome, it coincidentally happened that a conclave of sorts was going on during our visit. Many of the American bishops, archbishops and cardinals were in Rome at the same time.
We were delighted to meet many of them at a lovely banquet hosted on one of the Seven Hills of Rome in a setting unlike any I have ever attended. To my surprise, I met one of my old Sunday school teachers who had been a priest at St. Peter's Catholic Church in Columbia, South Carolina, where my family went to Mass every Sunday. That young priest, Father Joseph Bernardin, was now Cardinal Joseph Bernardin. He had taught many of my ten brothers and sisters while at St. Peter's, and my late parents knew his parents quite well. Still, I was surprised that he remembered the Aun name.
We were enjoying cocktails together outside the banquet chamber, under glorious trees, as the sun was setting. We shared a lovely conversation with the cardinal recalling his days at the University of South Carolina.
While talking with him, the birds came home to roost in the huge tree under which we were chatting. In the course of our conversation, one of the birds, which obviously enjoyed a bountiful day of scavenging, did what birds do when they eat their fill — it voided itself. Unfortunately, the good cardinal was right in his path.
Let the record reflect that I am a pretty quick wit and always have a comment in my hip pocket. However, you just don't tease a cardinal when a bird poops on his hat. Cardinal Bernardin felt the bird droppings hit his beanie. He reached up to see what it was and realized that he then had poop on his hand.
I didn't know where to go with this, but I knew that no confession I would ever make again would excuse me for making one of my typical off-the-cuff "poop comments." So, for once in my life, I kept my mouth shut. I did not say a word, mainly because I wanted to hear how the good cardinal was going to deal with this.
Realizing that he had been nailed by a wayward bird from above, he looked up at the tree, looked down at his hand, and then looked back up at the tree and said, "... and... for the others... you sing!"
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