I want to get this into print before the cardinals go into the conclave, because this might help them in their decisions.

Last night I stayed up late reading Karl Rahner’s 1984 essay “Dream of the Church,” in which he is allowed to eavesdrop on a Vatican ecumenical meeting during which the pope assures our non-Catholic brethren that in the future the pope will be much more consultative before making infallible statements.

Rahner is heavy work, and he got me so wound-up that I needed to relax by replaying one of my favorite 1930s films, “The Prisoner of Zenda.” Here Ronald Coleman, a British gentleman deer-hunting in the forests of Slyvania, is accosted by two ambassadors who inform him that the Crown Prince of Slyvania, scheduled to be crowned the next day, had been kidnapped by brigands. Because Coleman looks just like the Prince, they implore him to be crowned king in his place and serve until the real king can be rescued. Because he is a gentleman, Coleman agrees, and following a magnificent sword duel with the villain Douglas Fairbanks, Jr., order is restored.

The next thing I remember is that I was in Rome, on a Vatican side street, when two men in black blindfolded me and dragged me to the Sistine Chapel where the new pope Cardinal Blifskitz of Waydownia had just been elected; but the news had thrown him into coma and he was now held in a secret room under medical care. But a million believers were assembled in St. Peter’s Square waiting for his appearance. They said that I looked just like him, and if I refused to play his role I would be sinning against the Holy Spirit, which is as bad as you can get. What could I say? They added one condition: I was in no circumstances to say anything infallible. I agreed; but if I was going to be pope I was also going to be myself.

So rather than dress up and wave from the window, I went down onto the front steps of St. Peter’s in my Land’s End blue jeans, blue shirt and Fordham tie, introduced myself as Pope Luke, because his Gospel best reflected my priorities: sharing the wealth, loving both our neighbors and strangers, and giving women power. I declared that the Third Vatican Council would open in a year, that the College of Cardinals would become two thirds laymen and women from all over the world, that silenced theologians were free to speak, and that priests who found the previous Mass translations more pastoral and prayerful were free to use them. I then circulated through the crowd shaking hands and invited people to a picnic of hot dogs, pasta carbonara, shrimp friend rice and paella after the Mass.

For the Mass there was no crown, no mitre, no long robes, no gold ring; the choir sang Mozart, Bach and “It’s Me O Lord, Standing In The Need of Prayer.” I reshuffled the curia with more laypersons, men and women, and set up commissions to prepare the Council’s agenda: meeting the needs of the poor by the re-distribution of resources and wealth; raising the quality of Catholic intellectual life; the fuller participation of women in the life and governance of the church. For the first four months I traveled one week each month, with only three or four aides, staying in rectories or religious houses in city neighborhoods. There would be no Yankee Stadium-like appearances, but I took afternoon walks in parks and talked to anyone who joined us. Then I used the media for open-ended discussions on news programs.

On summer weekends, when I got away to Castel Gandolfo and did a few laps in the pool or biked down to the sea coast to hit the waves, as I had done years before with a Jesuit friend, I got an idea. I decided to resign, I was still in good shape, but I was old. And I was tempted to make just one infallible proclamation. Nothing controversial, something everyone, particularly my generation, might enjoy. I would solemnly declare that Nelson Eddy and Jeanette MacDonald, Roy Rogers, Gene Autry, Leonard Warren and Lily Pons were all in heaven singing in the choir; and I was pretty sure the Holy Spirit would go along.

Then suddenly it happened. The door of my office opened, and there was His Holiness Cardinal Blifskitz of Waydown looking tall and fit and a little bit like me. He had recovered, he said, and thanked me for all I had done, and assured me those were the very changes he had planned to make himself. And that the four Swiss Guards accompanying him would drive me immediately to the airport.

And then I woke up.

Son of Raymond A. Schroth, of Trenton, N. J., a World War I hero and editorial writer and reporter for the Trenton Times, Brooklyn Eagle and New York Herald Tribune for over 40 years, and of Mildred (Murphy) Schroth, of Bordentown, N. J., a teacher in the Trenton public and Catholic school systems, Raymond A. Schroth, S.J., has spent his life as a Jesuit, journalist, and teacher.

After graduating from Fordham College in 1955--where he majored in American civilization, studied in Paris, and was editorial editor of the Fordham Ram--he served as an antiaircraft artillery officer in Germany for two years and joined the Society of Jesus in 1957. Ordained a priest in 1967, he obtained his PhD in American Thought and Culture at the George Washington University and taught journalism at Fordham until 1979. During that time he was also associate and book editor of Commonweal magazine.

After two years as academic dean of Rockhurst College in Kansas City, he became academic dean of the College of the Holy Cross in Worcester, Mass. In 1985-86 he held the Will and Ariel Durant Chair in the Humanities at Saint Peter's College in Jersey City. From 1986 to 1996 he taught journalism at Loyola University in New Orleans and was adviser to the Maroon, its award-winning newspaper. In 1995 the Southeast Journalism Conference named him Journalism Educator of the year. In 1996 he returned to Fordham as assistant dean of Fordham College Rose Hill and director of the Matteo Ricci Society, which prepares students to compete for prestigious fellowships. Meanwhile, from 1967 he served as a resident faculty member in the student residence halls.

He has published eight books, including: The Eagle and Brooklyn: A Community Newspaper (Greenwood); Books for Believers: 35 Books Every Catholic Should Read (Paulist); with Jeff Theilman, Volunteer: with the Poor in Peru (Paulist); and The American Journey of Eric Sevareid (Steerforth), a biography of the CBS commentator.

In 1999 he moved to Saint Peter's College, where he wrote two books: From Dante to Dead Man Walking: One Person's Journey through Great Religious Literature and Fordham: A History and Memoir, (Loyola Press in 2001-2002). In 2000 Saint Peter's College named him the Jesuit Community Professor in the Humanities. In Spring 2003 he was made editor of the national Jesuit university review, Conversations and will continue to serve in this position until 2013. His The American Jesuits: A History, (New York University Press, 2007), was followed by Bob Drinan: The Controversial Life of the First Catholic Priest Elected to Congress, (Fordham University Press, 2010). He taught a graduate journalism course at NYU in 2004 and journalism history at Brooklyn College in 2006.

In recent summers he has traveled to Gabon, South Africa, Peru, Iraq, Jordan, Syria, France, Thailand, Vietnam, Cuba, Indonesia, the Czech Republic, and China to educate himself, write articles, and take pictures. In 2003 his National Catholic Reporter media essays won the Catholic Press Association's best cultural columnist award. His over 300 articles on politics, religion, the media, and literature have appeared in many publications, including the Columbia Journalism Review, Commonweal, America, the New York Times Book Review, the Los Angeles Times, New York Newsday, Kansas City Star, Boston Globe and the Newark Star Ledger, where he was a weekly online columnist for several years. From time to time he lectures and appears on radio and TV. He is listed in Who's Who and Contemporary Authors. In his free time he swims, bikes, walks, reads, goes to movies and restaurants, and prays.