The Pope dies and finds himself standing at the Gates of Heaven.

He rings the bell, and St. Peter shuffles up and opens the gate.

St. Peter says,
“Yes? How can I help you?”

The Pope replies,
“I’d like a word with God.”

“Sure,” says St. Peter. “Who shall I say is calling?”

The Pope sighs, frustrated.
“Come on, Peter — don’t play games. It’s me… the Pope!”

St. Peter scratches his head.
“Pope? Hmmm… sorry, doesn’t ring a bell.”

Now the Pope is getting irritated.
“Look, I’m not asking — I’m demanding to speak with God!”

“Alright, alright… keep your hat on,” says St. Peter. “I’ll go check.”

He closes the gate and walks over to God.

“Lord, there’s someone here who says he urgently needs to speak with You.”

“Who is it?” asks God.

“He calls himself ‘the Pope.’ He’s carrying a staff and wearing a tall hat.”

God frowns.
“The Pope? I don’t recall anyone by that name.”

St. Peter shrugs.
“Me neither. What should we do?”

God says,
“Let Jesus go see him. He spent some time down there — maybe He’ll recognize him.”

So Jesus goes to the gate. A few minutes later, He comes back laughing uncontrollably.

God asks,
“What’s so funny?”

Jesus says,

“You’re not going to believe this… but that little fishing club I started with twelve guys 2,000 years ago is still going strong!”