I have a confession to make. When I read stories about the Pope’s recent anti-gay gaffe, I had to Google the term “frociaggine.” And even then I was confused. The PinkNews website, for instance, had this to say:
The term “frociaggine,” which Pope Francis reportedly used to refer to gay men, is an f-pejorative in the Italian language. The Italian word roughly translates to the derogatory term, “f****t”. While the word literally means a bundle of sticks and was used in the 19th century to describe older women who gathered firewood, it has since taken on negative connotations to describe gay men.
While I was in the firewood business for over 20 years, I’ve gotta say, both “f-pejorative” and “f****t” still had me stymied. “Fucknut,” maybe?
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Many moons ago when I was still in HS, I worked side-by-side with my dad and uncle @WolfBrothersFruitFarms. One hot summer’s day we were taking a break from picking peaches, sitting on overturned peach baskets in the shade. There we rested, getting a drink of cold water in cups filled from a common plastic picnic jug. And somehow – for the life of me I can’t remember the conversational context anymore – my uncle used the term “n*gger.” It wasn’t meant as malicious. It was for him as natural as the sweat rolling off our brows.
Something in the expression on my face must have alerted him to the gaffe. “You don’t like that term?” We had just been making casual conversation. And I, not interested in opening up a can of worms, said only “Nope.” That was it. We went back to picking peaches. I will say this, however: He never used that term in my presence again. And frankly, that’s good enough for me.
My dad and my uncles were raised by parents born in the 1890’s. My grandfather never thought twice about using a term like “n*gger.” Just like he never thought twice about beating the misbehavior out of his sons with an apple switch. “Spare the rod and spoil the child” was not for him an abstract aphorism. It was a hard fact of daily life. But times change. And this truth remains: We carry the past around with us where ever we go. Sometimes, things slip out. That doesn’t change filial ties. It also doesn’t change the progress of history. Sometimes the best you can do is just take a long drink of cold water, go back to picking peaches, and give it more time.
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That’s what I’m going to do with the Pope. Lord knows, if anybody deserves some slack, it’s him. After all, he’s the one who said shortly after the start of his papacy in 2013, “If a person is gay and seeks God and has good will, who am I to judge?” If that was good enough for him then, it’s good enough for me now. At least it’s a helluva lot better than what most of his predecessors had to offer. And to those who take a hard line against him on this, I guess I’d say the following: If you’re looking for a vanguard of change in the culture wars and hoping to find it in the Catholic Church, you’re bound to be disappointed. C’mon, get real: Some of us have been picking up sticks of firewood for a very long time.
Also, picking peaches.
You can tell a lot about a person’s past from what slips out of their mouth. Thankfully, that’s not got a lot to do with where we’re all headed. This is my confession. And you can quote me on that too, Padre.