Peace be with you, dear reader, and also with whoever owns this laundry detergent I am currently attempting to open with a letter opener. Today, my editors here at the Hambry newsroom have assigned me to report on a young man named Derek Miller, who I am told has found a profound sense of spiritual enlightenment inside a top-loading washing machine. Why I, your humble Pope, was chosen to cover the complex chemistry of fabric softeners is a mystery known only to the Almighty, and perhaps the very nice Protestant gentleman who runs the copy machine downstairs. But God has placed this story before me, and who am I to look away?
According to the reports I read—or perhaps it was a Groupon, my reading glasses are increasingly uncooperative—young Derek has spent his weekends staring into the agitator in search of control in a complicated world. May the Lord smile upon this young accountant and grant him peace. As Saint Augustine said, or possibly Saint Zita the patron saint of domestic workers, I forget which, cleanliness is next to godliness, though I suspect Saint Zita was speaking more of the soul than of lavender-scented freshness beads. Still, looking into a swirling vortex of water and soap to find quiet contemplation is a noble pursuit. It reminds me of the time a cardinal and I got lost in an IKEA in, I believe, Frankfurt, staring into a display kitchen for three hours until someone offered us Swedish meatballs. The mind seeks sanctuary where it can.
In my youth at the Vatican, laundry was handled by sisters who possessed a serene efficiency that I have never quite matched. I once tried to wash my papal vestments with a modern pod appliance, and let us just say the results were colorful, if liturgically irregular. The spin cycle, as we say, est terribilis. But Derek has taken his search for tranquility into the digital age, participating in internet comment threads about heavy-duty detergents. I understand this application is like a confessional, but for your linens. People typing their deepest thoughts about static cling into a glowing rectangle. What a time to be alive, or as I occasionally mutter when the television remote fails, Deus vult.
This young man has made some unusual choices, perhaps, spending his weekends communing with suds rather than seeking traditional leisure, but I am sure his mother loves him dearly. May he find comfort in his soft towels and his online fellowship. And may we all find a moment of stillness this week, whether through prayer, quiet reflection, or simply remembering to separate the whites from the colors. Peace be with this young man, and may the CFO of his accounting firm find mercy in his heart. Amen.
