There’s a
scene in “The Sopranos” where Tony’s son A.J., quoting the German
philosopher Nietzsche, solemnly proclaims that “God is dead.” As a
result, A.J. tells Tony that he doesn’t want to get confirmed in the
Catholic Church.
Tony, knowing that his churchgoing and priest-befriending wife, Carmela, would have none of that, says, “You go to Catholic school. And your mother wants it. ... She knows that even if God is dead, you’re still going to kiss his ass.”
That’s our Tony, profane and to the point. We cheer for him all the more because, even though he messes up his own life, he tries his best to make sure his kids don’t mess up theirs. “Do as I say, not as I do.” How many of us have heard that sage advice from our doting parents?
Reports about the final day of James Gandolfini’s life seem to show a person who lived large, literally and figuratively.
If we are to believe The New York Post (and I don’t always), Gandolfini partook of a bacchanal feast of four shots of rum, two pina coladas, two beers, plus two orders of fried king prawns and a lot of foie gras.
But lest our final memory of him be marred by his seeming fall into the sin of gluttony, we are told that he had just come from touring the Vatican.
Sounds like something Tony would do.
The opinions expressed in this commentary are solely those of Father Edward L. Beck.
Tony, knowing that his churchgoing and priest-befriending wife, Carmela, would have none of that, says, “You go to Catholic school. And your mother wants it. ... She knows that even if God is dead, you’re still going to kiss his ass.”
That’s our Tony, profane and to the point. We cheer for him all the more because, even though he messes up his own life, he tries his best to make sure his kids don’t mess up theirs. “Do as I say, not as I do.” How many of us have heard that sage advice from our doting parents?
Reports about the final day of James Gandolfini’s life seem to show a person who lived large, literally and figuratively.
If we are to believe The New York Post (and I don’t always), Gandolfini partook of a bacchanal feast of four shots of rum, two pina coladas, two beers, plus two orders of fried king prawns and a lot of foie gras.
But lest our final memory of him be marred by his seeming fall into the sin of gluttony, we are told that he had just come from touring the Vatican.
Sounds like something Tony would do.
The opinions expressed in this commentary are solely those of Father Edward L. Beck.
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