Two week notice

Holy smoke!

Pope Benedict XVI has just announced that he’s retiring, citing health reasons. His departure is effective 28 February.

This is kind of strange for a couple of reasons.

For one thing, normal notice period in Europe is a month, unless you’re going to the competition, when they walk you to the door. I didn’t see anything in the news stories mentioning the Pontiff taking up residence in a Tibetan monastery, or joining one of the Pentecostalist sects. So oughtn’t he hand in a full 30-day notice? Give everyone in the Church Universal time to pass round the good-bye card for signatures and maybe kick in a little something for a retirement gift?

What do you even give a retiring pope?

Because popes traditionally die with their boots-of-the-fisherman on, so to speak. They do not go gentle into that good night; neither age nor ill health nor illegitimate children nor really bad investments prevent them from hanging on to the mitre and the crook. (Hmm—that sounds like the name of a pub, doesn’t it?)

It’s not just a job, it’s a lifetime adventure. Leaving any way other than in a body bag (or a linen shroud, if you want to be technical) is just not the done thing. Abdicating is rather like getting a divorce, you ask me. Something Benedict ought to be opposed to on moral grounds.

The last pope to walk away under his own power was Celestine V, in 1294. That so pissed off Dante Alighieri that he had Celestine appear in the antechamber of Inferno. (Without giving his name. But everyone knew whom he meant.)  I’m expecting Benedict to appear in a skit on SNL.

So, not sure what happens now—how do you elect a new pope when you’ve still got one clearing out his desk? And will Benedict continue tweeting from retirement, or will his successor take over the Twitter handle? 

Stay on the lookout for white smoke.