Column | Chimney – NRC

The last time I looked at a chimney so expectantly, was probably some thirty years ago on December 5. So, I thought, it must feel for nature lovers who install a wild camera and wait until a Damherd appears on the screen. Only my Damhert was a gray old man with a dated worldview.

The NOS had managed to get my attention. Every moment white or black smoke could come out of the chimney. Really a moment.

They knew a lot.

The first smoke moment, Wednesday. I looked for an hour. No idea why. I am not a Catholic. I am not religious at all. The chosen one will not have a direct influence on my life. But I knew the contenders. Parolin, tagle, zuppi, erdo, grech, pizza balla, I could dream them. I read in, watched videos, studied the opportunities at the betting offices. Knowed the backgrounds: boring secretary, Asian Francis, priest of the street, conservative friend of Viktor Orbán, offered himself to Hamas as a hostage. And then you will see, plottwist, just like in 2013: it will be someone who did not expect anyone.

I think I just had song festival fever. The winner of this also has few consequences for my life, I also can’t immediately reconcile those contenders with my own taste, and I also wonder why some people can actually participate.

Was it a conclave where Catholics and always-online homos are convinced when I overlap in the vend diagram? Vatican’s Next Top Catholic. Vatican’s Drag Race – You are not going to tell me that someone called Pierbattista Pizzaballa could not as well play every Friday in a Roman café on a song by Laura Pausini. The best things to follow on social media around the conclave could be found In the queer-corner. The drama, fashion, confidentiality. Faith as a reality TV.

Blasphemous? Probably a bit. I thought it was especially wonderful that some of the society that is tolerated by the cardinals in the conclave in the best case, but for the most part still denied, so much pleasure from choosing the new Pope.

The second smoke moment, Thursday morning. I didn’t have to look for an hour. My wish list had since been carefully compiled on the basis of whether the cardinal in question ever hinted that he thinks I have a right to exist. The bar was low, but it had to lie somewhere.

The third smoke moment, Thursday afternoon. I peered back to the chimney. White smoke. For example, I started the evening, just like thirty years ago, waiting for a glimpse of a man in whom I actually don’t believe at all.

Frank Huiskamp Replaces Frits Abrahams this week.

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