I took the Pope into the bathroom with me a week ago, when he was touring the Mid-Atlantic States region. It was sort of an audience, but not arranged by his protocol directors. The Pope went into the bathroom because he was on the cover of TIME magazine that week. As we all know, we want to take reading material into the bathroom when we, uh, plan on spending some time there rather than making a quick papal visit. We would like this to be quality time, but that quality depends on the diet, productivity and output of the sitter.
So I look at the kindly visage of the Holy Father, and I cannot quite shake the notion that he is looking back at me, even though his eyes aren’t directly focused on me. It’s like all those magical media items in the “Harry Potter” movies, where not only do pictures and prints move and make noise, but they interact with you personally. No! Don’t let the Pope see me on the pot! I’m so embarrassed. I put my hand over the Pope’s printed face. To use a more religiously appropriate situation, like an Orthodox ikon this picture is a “window to the soul.” Pope Francis’s image, clad in clean white tissue, made smoother by the work of holy Photoshop, is a transparency. Would I take an Orthodox ikon into the loo? Would I take a lavishly illustrated cooking magazine into the place where the post-digested remains of its recipes ends up?
I have always had the primitive notion that things have consciousness. Depiction is communication. It is listening to me. And as our culture and technology get closer and closer to Harry Potter’s magical world (Internet connection for your dishwasher! For your underwear!) we will reach a point where the Pope could give us a blessing in our private quarters, and really mean it. If things have consciousness, can you insult them? I once said “Go away!” to “Siri,” the robotic voice of my iPhone, and she answered back, “What did I do to offend you?” I hurt a robot’s feelings! I know of people who take their Kindles and iPads into the W.C. with them, endangering their pristine shining screens with the splash of ritual pollution.
I fold up the magazine. TIME is out of time and I will have to attempt another devotional session, helped by more prunes and an apology to Siri. Yes, sorry….I’m TOO POPED TO POOP!
