This lively caper through the Italian countryside poses larger questions about spirituality and morality.
"One day, the Pope and the Dalai Lama decide to go on a road trip together…" This sentence sounds like the start of a good joke, but is in fact, the premise of Roland Merullo's novel, The Delight of Being Ordinary.

Pope Francis, plagued by dreams and a general malaise resulting from never having time alone, decides he needs a break and charges his overburdened First Assistant and cousin, Paolo dePadova, with finding a way to arrange a short, unsupervised vacation. The visiting Dalai Lama is invited to join Francis in a jaunt through the Italian countryside for a few days of "being ordinary." The book's narrator, the panicky and unimaginative Paolo, enlists the help of his estranged wife, Rosa, a hairdresser to many Italian film stars. She borrows a lime green Maserati Quattroporte sedan and helps Paolo spirit the disguised holy men out of Rome.

There's a lot going on in this novel that makes it difficult to categorize. The first 50 pages or so are very funny as the horrified Paolo relates his initial disbelief – surely His Holiness doesn't really mean he's going to leave Rome without telling anyone – and later, his concerns about being labeled a kidnapper as he shepherds the two old men away from the Vatican. He recounts the glee which infuses the truants as they sneak away, while simultaneously fretting that he's making a huge mistake, going along with this whacky adventure. Merullo strikes the perfect tone here: Paolo is just the foil for the antics of those in his care, and his narrative voice is one of the most enjoyable aspects of the novel.

Once the road trip really gets going, the book becomes more serious and contemplative. Much of the narration describes the landscape as the quartet drives along, and the author conveys the natural beauty of the area vividly. But more of the text is devoted to heavier subjects. Throughout, Paolo ponders relationships and why they succeed or fail. He and his wife of twenty-one years have always loved each other, but their marriage withered, he thinks, because they simply didn't take the time to nurture it. For the escapade, Paolo disguises himself as a "boat person" – a refugee, perhaps from Syria or Tunisia. Several times he reflects on the experience of being someone other than a white male, and how his new dark skin has made him stand out and become a target for anger and distrust. This theme of Italian xenophobia is a timely discussion of attitudes toward immigrants across Europe and, by extension, elsewhere.

Rosa introduces topics for theological debate. At one point, for example, she asks the Pope what makes a good Catholic, claiming that she doesn't consider herself pious because she doesn't take time to pray. "There are many kinds of prayer," the Pope reminds her. "One kind would be simply to allow yourself some quiet time every day to contemplate the mystery of being alive." She brings up the question of celibacy and how she thinks it's unnatural to not desire physical intimacy. The Dalai Lama, a Buddhist who believes in reincarnation, replies: "Maybe if you have enough lifetimes with sex, there comes to you a lifetime where it doesn't matter so much as before. You feel the way that after big meal the person feels about eating. Maybe then you have the celibate life and you are content." These sections make up the heart of the book; the author clearly tries to present both the Christian and Buddhist view on various issues of morality and religion and to point out where the two philosophies overlap.

My opinion about The Delight of Being Ordinary is decidedly mixed. I loved the beginning; it has the madcap abandon of a good, old-fashioned Bob Hope and Bing Crosby road-trip movie from the 1940s. I also enjoyed the travelogue sections that so brilliantly describe the landscape of Italy that it made me yearn to visit. Paolo's contemplation of his relationship with his wife are realistic and heartfelt, and encouraged me to think about those who are important in my own life. However, the question-and-answer sections between the religious figures and the two secular individuals felt forced and awkward, and the author's attempts to reconcile the two belief systems was ultimately unsatisfying. Although a number of the discussions provided food for thought, they aren't woven into the action well and consequently come across as clumsy.

The Delight of Being Ordinary is still worth reading. Even if the theological discussions do take up a large part of the narrative, I found many gems scattered throughout that gave me pause, and parts of the book will stay with me for a long time to come. For those interested in exploring questions of faith, Merullo's take on the subject will likely prompt deeper personal contemplation, and this short, accessible novel will make an excellent selection for book groups.

Beautiful writing, no dramatic tension, positive but sometimes shallow message, and unpleasant ableism about mental health and neurodiversity. Splitting the difference between the good and bad aspects, I would give it 2.5 stars.

As a Christian married to a Buddhist, I could be considered the ideal audience for this book. My Episcopal church group just finished a video series about Pope Francis that left us with great admiration for his humble piety and concern for the poor, though naturally we disagree on gender issues. So I was receptive to the book's message that we need to de-emphasize doctrinal boundaries and religious institutions, and find the common heart of compassion in all faiths. I appreciate that Merullo allowed respectful disagreements between the characters to remain unresolved.

I usually feel that it's cheating to throw in miraculous events at the end of a realist novel to tie up your plot. But this book was not realistic from the beginning, more of a novelized allegory or fable, so the claim of a modern-day virgin birth didn't bother me. It challenged me to consider that the seeds of divinity are in all of us.

As I mentioned, Merullo is a great stylist. The narrator's voice was both poetic and funny. I felt I was getting an inside look at Italian history and culture from someone who loved the place. On the down side, the story really dragged for me because there was no tension. I could already predict from the jacket copy that this would be a feel-good, sentimental story where the husband and wife reconcile, everyone learns a valuable lesson, and there are no negative consequences for creating an international panic about the disappearance of two famous religious leaders.

I do admire Pope Francis, but the fictional version's benign perfection was rather too much. The civilian characters challenge him a bit about birth control and women's roles, but he gets a pass on other life-and-death issues where the Church continues to do great harm. I was angry that Merullo has the Pope muse sadly about depression and suicide among young people, attributing these problems to a generic crisis of modernity and alienation. What about all the LGBTQ kids who take their lives because of conservative religious teachings? Take out the mote in your own eye, Your Holiness.

The mental health ableism was the book's biggest flaw. Compared to his companions, Paolo is an anxious person who likes order and security, which the book treats as a spiritual flaw for him to overcome. This plays into the widespread problem of churches shaming people for their depression and anxiety as a lack of faith. Judgmental moralizing about natural human neurological variations is no better than preaching heterosexual superiority.

The Pope and the Dalai Lama have lifelong phobias of heights and water, respectively, that are cured after (involuntary, in the Pope's case) one instance of forced exposure to the scary situation. I can't emphasize enough what an abusive thing this would be to do to a real person with a phobia. The false notion that people need to be shocked out of their comfort zones undergirds real-life opposition to trigger warnings and other accommodations for a range of disabilities such as PTSD and autism.

See review on Goodreads:
https://www.goodreads.com/review/show/2010788247?book_show_action=false&from_review_page=1

This has the air of a whimsical religious fable. Narrated by the Pope’s cousin and first assistant, Paolo dePadova, it’s about how the Pope and the Dalai Lama manage to sneak away from the Vatican for a five-day Italian vacation. Paolo is a former travel agent and his ex-wife and co-conspirator, Rosa, is a hair and makeup artist, so they’re the perfect pair to arrange a last-minute road trip in disguises. They take a secret tunnel from the Pope’s private chapel into town and meet Rosa there, where she and her colleagues work their magic. The Pope (“Giorgio”) is gotten up as a Scandinavian businessman with a blond hairpiece, while the Dalai Lama (“Tenzin”) is a Yoko Ono-type rock star with a long wig and big glasses. Paolo himself gets a new identity, too: as a darker-skinned Gaddafi lookalike, he gets to experience what it’s like to be a despised minority in rural Italy.

At first it seems the trip is just a chance for these two holy men to enjoy ordinary life, but gradually we realize that they are also on a religious mission: they’ve been having remarkably similar visions of a special child whom the Dalai Lama believes could be his successor on Earth. The book contains a number of low-key religious debates, most of them initiated by Rosa, and there are pearls of spiritual wisdom dotted through. I especially appreciated what the Dalai Lama has to say to Paolo about why things fell apart between him and Rosa: “We make up stories about the other person. In our minds we build these stories—she is this way, he is that way; look, she always do this, he always do that—and then these things keep us from seeing this person full as they are in present moment.” Some of the plot felt predictable to me, but the characters’ actions and speech are believable.

Merullo
January 18, 2017Insights into BooksEdit
What happens when the Pope and the Dali Lama decide to go on an secret road trip without telling anyone? The Delight of Being Ordinary: A Road Trip with the Pope and the Dali Lama by Roland Merullo tells of such andventure taken by the Pope, the Dali Lama. Along for the ride are Paolo dePadova, the Pope’s cousin and assistant, and Rosa, Paolo’s estranged wife.

This book conquers aspects of spiritual thought such as life after death and traditional religion. It is a fun, spiritually questioning book. It will make you consider things in a new light. I liked the contrast between the Buddhist and Catholic faiths, as well as their different explanations to questions.

The characters are entertaining and wise. I liked Rosa because she wasn’t afraid to voice her opinion or ask questions. Paolo is a bit uptight throughout the book, I mean he essentially kidnapped two holy men, who wouldn’t be? Paolo questions his logical thinking and beliefs along the way. I enjoyed how he grew in this book.

Filled with humor and spiritual wisdom this book is worth reading. I think that those who like stories with a twist, a bit of adventure, and spirituality will like reading this book.

I wonder give this book four out of four stars. I enjoyed the plot and the premise. I do wish we had heard a few more spiritual insights from these two holy men though. While there were spiritual concepts presented it wasn’t in such a way as to subtract from the readability of the story. The book was a very light entertaining read.

I acknowledge that I received this book free of charge from NetGalley and the publisher in exchange for my honest and unbiased opinion of it.