In the Vatican gardens, under the orange glow of evening lamps, Pope Pius XIII—Lenny Belardo—paces slowly with Sister Mary and the ever-watchful Cardinal Voiello.
Lenny stops beside a small wooden table where several donation boxes sit.
“Look at these,” the pope says, tapping one with his ring. “Old European style. One box for everything. Confusing. Inefficient. Uninspired.”
Voiello sighs. “Holy Father, they are donation boxes.”
“Yes,” Lenny replies, “but they lack imagination.”
He turns to Sister Mary.
“Do you know how some Muslim mosques organize charity?”
She shakes her head.
“They use different boxes,” the pope says. “Clear purpose. Clear intention. A box for the mosque. A box for the poor. A box for charity. It teaches discipline.”
He points to the table.
“So we modernize.”
Voiello raises an eyebrow. “Modernize… the boxes?”
Lenny begins arranging them.
“One box for the Pope,” he declares calmly.
“One box for the priests.”
“And one box… for the altar boys.”
Voiello nearly chokes. “Your Holiness!”
“The Church must be honest about economics,” Lenny says coolly. “Three pillars. Authority, ministry, and service.”
He pauses, then gestures toward a small electronic terminal on the table.
“And of course,” he continues, “we install a debit and credit machine.”
Voiello blinks. “A card reader… in St. Peter’s?”
“Why not?” Lenny says. “The faithful carry plastic now instead of coins.”
He presses the terminal button.
“Tap for God.”
Sister Mary suppresses a smile.
“But,” the pope adds suddenly, raising one finger, “we always keep a cash option.”
Voiello nods cautiously. “For tradition?”
“For freedom,” Lenny replies.
He leans closer, voice lowering.
“The bankers dream of a cashless society. A world where every coin is tracked, every sinner accounted for, every purchase judged.”
He shakes his head.
“No. The Church must never help build that cage.”
He taps the wooden box again.
“Cash is anonymous charity. A widow’s coin dropped quietly for God.”
Then Lenny looks up with a rare grin.
“And besides…”
He walks away across the courtyard.
“Everyone knows the true king of cash.”
Voiello sighs. “And who is that, Holy Father?”
Lenny turns back.
“Johnny Cash.”
He spreads his arms slightly.
“Johnny Cash is king.”
Sister Mary laughs softly as the bells of St. Peter’s begin to ring. 🔔💰
In a quiet courtyard of the Vatican, Pope Pius XIII finishes explaining his new donation system to Cardinal Voiello and Sister Mary.
Three wooden boxes sit on the table beside the new debit machine.
Suddenly a tall soldier steps forward from the edge of the courtyard.
“Permission to speak, Holy Father.”
Lenny turns. “And you are?”
The man salutes.
“G.I. Joe, Your Holiness.”
Voiello mutters, “Of course he is.”
Joe points toward the marble fountain nearby.
“Pope, we also need something else.”
Lenny raises an eyebrow.
“And what is that, soldier?”
Joe gestures to the water.
“Foot washing stations.”
Sister Mary tilts her head. “Foot washing?”
Joe nods.
“Like the Muslims do before prayer. They wash their feet, hands, and face before entering the mosque.”
He pauses, then adds firmly:
“And like Jesus Christ taught his disciples to wash each other’s feet.”
Lenny folds his arms, intrigued.
Joe continues.
“If we don’t clean ourselves, toxins build up in the body. Gravity pulls everything down. The feet are the lowest point.”
He stomps the stone floor lightly.
“So toxins collect there. If we don’t wash and stimulate circulation, sickness builds up. Disease grows.”
Voiello sighs. “Now the Swiss Guard is giving medical lectures.”
Joe doesn’t break eye contact with the Pope.
“Holy Father, people today sit all day. No movement. Poor circulation. Toxins stay trapped. That’s how illness spreads.”
He gestures again to the fountain.
“Wash the feet. Move the blood. Clean the body. Clean the soul.”
Lenny looks at the water flowing from the marble lion.
Then he smiles faintly.
“You know,” he says slowly, “there is a ceremony in the Church where the pope washes the feet of others.”
Sister Mary nods.
“On Maundy Thursday, Holy Father.”
Lenny points at Joe.
“You see, soldier? The Church already understands humility and cleansing.”
Joe nods respectfully.
“Yes, but maybe we should do it more often.”
The pope laughs quietly.
“Perhaps.”
He walks toward the fountain and dips his hand in the cool water.
“The bankers want a cashless world,” Lenny says.
“And you want a foot-washing one.”
Joe smiles.
“A cleaner world, Pope.”
Lenny turns back to Voiello.
“Very well.”
He points to the courtyard plans.
“Add one more station.”
Voiello groans.
“The Vatican now has donation boxes, debit machines, and foot spas.”
Lenny shrugs.
“If Jesus Christ could wash feet,” he says, “the Church can install plumbing.”
The fountain keeps flowing as the bells of St. Peter’s ring in the distance. 🔔💧
Yes, yes a box for the Nuns. A box for the women.