In this morning’s New York Times, November 10th, on p. A31, right- hand column, is the heading, “The Great Revulsion,” referring, of course, to the Democratic rousting of the powerful, who, in the words of Paul Krugman:” were the potent alliance of wealthy individuals, corporate interests, and the religious right that took shape in the l960s and 1970s.”

Until the voting results came in, America had no idea of the “Sleeping Giant” they had awakened, as, one by one, they made their way to the ballot box, determined to do their small part to restore America to Americans.

How proud we are this day! Somehow, we’ve found the courage as a nation, to raise our voices and shout, “No more!” to legislation in the middle of the night, as laws were passed without even the benefit of having been read by those entrusted to protect the people from dictatorship policies in “the land of the free and the home of the brave.”

On a much smaller, though real scale, the Vatican’s new regulation of barring the laity from cleansing the vessels after Mass has sent a wave of, if not revulsion, at least incomprehension, through the hearts of many Catholics, clergy as well as laity, with whom I have spoken.

When the U.S. bishops asked the Vatican to extend an indult, or church permission, in effect since 2002 allowing extraordinary ministers of Communion to help cleanse the Communion cups and plates when there were not enough priests or deacons to do so, Bishop Skylatad, who heads the Diocese of Spokane, Wash., said Cardinal Arinze asked Pope Benedict about the matter during a June 9 audience “and received a response in the negative.”

Why, we ask, should such a minor regulation fuel a feeling of alienation? Actually, I don’t think the regulation, itself, is responsible. Rather, it is the attitude of indifference the people find behind the regulation that has upset them, indifference on the part of those in power to the already over-burdened clergy, many of whom are responsible for three Masses on Sunday, in three different parishes. Yes, they will ignore the regulation, but the majority of them, at the same time, will carry resentment in their hearts that the regulation was made in the first place.

This may appear small, but is it? A priest shepherding three parishes should be treated with the utmost consideration, because he will be shepherding many different people in his Sunday ministry, and needs to be as free as possible to pray and nourish his flocks in a peace-filled, joyful manner.

Unfortunately, there is no avenue to allow our people to vote on a Church policy, no town hall meeting within which to vent their frustrations, so an unknown number will vote with their feet, becoming the Catholic “disappeared.” Someday, along with All Saints Day, and All Souls Day, we should establish a Disappearance Day for all those who have silently given up on finding shepherding within Christ’s Church, and have walked away, many taking their families and checkbooks with them.

I’ve heard it; you must have heard it, the word among some of the hierarchy in the Vatican in favor of a “lean, mean Church.” That phrase leaves me numb, so lacking in compassion and care for souls is it.

Across the silent plains, the word must go out to “the disappeared” that thousands of bishops, clergy and laity mourn their departure, pray for their peace, and are ready to welcome them back to their spiritual home when they are ready.

What can be done to begin the healing today, to prevent more pilgrims from wandering off into deserts, where spiritual thirst and confusion await them? Choose committees to plan programs, guaranteed to raise the consciousness of the people in the pews? The problem is their consciousness has been raised, and they don’t like the view.

The question then becomes: What would Jesus do? By constant word and example, he has taught us: Shepherd. Shepherd some more. Never give up looking for, sheltering, and caring for his sheep.

How? Every which way. By foot paths, highways, trains, planes — and how about trucking?

Let’s say the pope is weary of his post and would like to get out among the people, be a truck driver, for instance, transporting eggs and poultry from San Francisco to Boston.

He’d put aside his robes and don jeans and flannel shirt. Heavy boots and jacket would be needed, along with heavy chains for the tires in the snow. CB jargon would replace Latin encyclicals. The long stretches of empty highways would leave time for reflection.

Hard work, trucking. Schedules to meet, bad weather to face. Pay’s good, usually, if the price of gas doesn’t soar beyond the paycheck. And, as they say, where the rubber meets the road, the pope would find the practical application of Catholic Doctrine in the most unexpected of places, without a moral theologian in sight.

There’s Joe, a steady family man, gets to Sunday Mass as often as he can. Calls home regularly. He’s putting two kids through college, and two more are coming along. He says he couldn’t do his job without his wife, Nancy, who takes care of the kids, the house, the bills, is nurse, counselor, and cheer leader at all the games. They pray together for everyone in the family, by name.

Then, there’s Jean, who tells her fellow truckers she’s never alone, the Lord is her faithful companion. Some faith. She’s Methodist. Her pastor is a woman minister, who feeds her soul and quiets her mind in between trips.

And there’s Jim, who, as the miles fly by, prays and broods over his twenty-five- year old son, who finds companionship in a cigar box filled with syringes, bottle caps, and matches. He says a heroin fix is “like someone you love with their arms around you.” A life of hell for brief moments of artificial bliss.

Might be that Pope Benedict would run into ex-dope addicts. Certainly would if he tagged along with the Pentecostal minister, who hauls a chapel from one truck stop to the next, in which he holds services and does a bit of preaching about the Savior. Mostly, though, he listens, looking at family photos tucked away in billfolds, and to problems hidden deep in hearts – a child on chemo, a wife with too great a taste for 80-proof.

A lonely life, trucking. Lots of temptations. Many a man or woman will head straight to the phone to call home after chatting and sharing a prayer with the minister.

Out there, in the real world, hungry for what the Lord offers searching pilgrims, the pope might come belatedly to the realization that women’s ordination isn’t a threat to the Church; it’s indifference to the needs of God’s people.

By the way, at the Last Supper, Jesus washed the feet of his disciples. St. John doesn’t tell us who did the dishes.

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