St Francis faces the end of the world...

 


God peered over their glasses.

‘Can I have a word please?’

Francis had known there would be repercussions. He swallowed the rising feeling of trepidation.

But hadn't God delegated his authority – left the entire matter in Francis hands?

It was all very well observing things from afar in Paradise. It was also all very well having 800 years of experience and the title of Patron Saint of Ecology and Animals but that didn't prepare anyone for a visit to Earth.  Glasgow 2021 to be precise.  Taking on the climate crisis that could end the world  - with a bunch of overworked, tired world leaders reeling from the shock of COVID, hosted in the country that voted for BREXIT to boot ( although Scots might disagree). God just hadn't realised the enormity of the task they'd assigned to him.

Francis tightened the rope around his waist and hitched up his habit - mentally preparing himself  for God 's disappointment and the inevitable dressing down. He silently listed arguments about how fast the Earth was heating up; the extinction of millions of animals, birds, insects and plants; the environment breaking down; weather extremes - forests burning, floods, sea levels rising, the Arctic melting; economic disruption, food and water scarcity, conflict, terrorism....

When his chance to speak at COP 26 had come up he had been impassioned. He had gone to town citing the greed and selfishness of modern society; moral corruption; neglect of and disrespect to God's beautiful planet, the finite resources, the need to live sustainably alongside nature. He had even got in his trump card mention of Sister Bodily Death....

It had gone well - even if Francis did say so himself. The plights of walruses fatally jumping off cliffs, lonely sad orang-utans in disappearing forests and of course polar bears stranded on melting ice islands floating helplessly away.... He had the audience in the palm of his hand.

He'd received a lot of praise from several of the other delegates. He enjoyed the banter - the irony of being a Franciscan monk called Francis etc etc... He'd felt like he was an accepted part of the movement for change, respected and, crucially, that he'd made some headway.

So, it came as rather a shock on the final day when the votes hadn't gone the way he'd anticipated. In fact, the commitments were just not there - it was patently all talk. Just like one of his new contacts Greta had predicted - blah, blah, blah....

And well, since there was clearly no getting through to these people, Francis decided to take drastic action. He was a revered saint in whom God had vested the ultimate power. (God had made that very clear by the way - '..whatever it takes Francis, I give you my full authority and the power that comes with that. You will have my full support....’). Francis felt completely vindicated.

As Francis headed over to the soft seating area that God reserved for his most ‘special’ chats, he peered into the courtyard behind St Peter's Gate.

St Peter and his team were extremely harassed - the processing of new arrivals had grown exponentially. Francis had to admit that there was an awfully long queue of surprised, indignant, pompous world leaders. He conceded to himself that, despite feeling justified in his actions, he really hadn't thought through the consequences for Heaven's administrative system or the paperwork involved.

Sarah Tickle

 

Image Malgorzata Wrochna

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