Fr. Z's Blog

June 15th, 2026

Dear Diary,

Yesterday I accidentally ordained nobody. Or maybe two. Or maybe one. It’s apparently still being discussed by the canonical trolls at the end of the hall who given a question, immediately start whispering and photocopying.

It was supposed to be an ordination to the priesthood. I’ve done it before, of course.  Beautiful. Pictures. People happy. Nice lunch after. Two men.  It all went wrong.

The first warning sign was that the permanent deacon assigned to the cathedral was acting as MC.  The problem was that Fr. Lars the new liturgy director now that Msgr. Tommy’s on the job elsewhere broke his leg playing pickleball.  I told McSwiney at the cathedral last week, “Do not use Deacon Carl.” They used Deacon Carl.  Carl is a nice man but that don’t cut it. Fr. Gilbert said, “He has been preparing for days.” That was supposed to reassure me. Chester prepares for days before he throws up behind my chair.

Everything went well until it didn’t. I was thinking that the choir was not awful, which is already a miracle under McSwiney’s rule.  The candidates came forward. Blah blah blah.  Time for the litaney and prostration. Then deacon Bill, an ordinand – late vocation in his 60’s – starting wobbling. Thin shoulders, hot vestments, his eyes rolled up like window shades and he gently, almost gracefully flowed down to the floor at the time to prostate.  At first, we thought it was rehearsed. But then he didn’t get up.

Carl panicked. Instead of letting things breathe for half a second, Carl flapped his binder at me and hissed, “Continue, Bishop! Forward!” as if we were playing football.  Msgr. Tommy, who was seated off to the side with that look he gets when civilization is ending again, lazered me with his eyes. I looked at Carl. Carl pointed at the book.  So I continued.

That was my mistake.

Poor Bill had been hauled up ono a chair, fanned by three seminarians, one of whom looked like he was about to join him on the marble. The other ordinand remained kneeling there hands folded with an expression like, “I chose priesthood … here?”   Water was brought.  Towels.

Carl was stabbing the binder and the page. Wrong page, I think. Maybe the right page. Who knows. He stabbed and I began the prayer of ordination in my bishop voice ’cause I’ve done this before and I was in charge and I’m the bishop.  Then, from somewhere behind me, in a whisper that somehow filled the entire church, one of the priests – the VG? – said, “You have to lay on hands!”

There are things you never want to hear when you are already inside the ordination prayer.  That’s one of them.  I stopped mid sentence.  You could hear the air conditioning. Actually, you could hear it because it squeals and McSwiney still hasn’t fixed it even though I told him to in March.

I look over at Tommy who had gone very still. That’s worse than when he is angry. Gilbert was making tiny little pointing motions at his own hands and head. Deacon Carl was looking at the book as if it had betrayed him.

I said, quietly, “Now?”  Carl said, “Now.”

So I stepped forward, laid hands on the kneeling man, then walked over to the one on the chair because apparently he was still an ordinand I guess even though at that point he was sort of out of it. I laid hands on him too. I returned to my chair and continued the prayer from the place I had stopped.

There was a growling noise from Tommy.  Never good.

I just wanted to get on with it and leave, get the Mass going and get out of there. That’s when Tommy blocked everything.   He marched up to me and said, “We can’t go forward.  You didn’t ordain them validly.”

“They’re priests now,” I objected. He said, “Are they?”

I hate questions like that.  I knew he was right.   Like a machine gun he explained that I didn’t lay on hands and then I stopped the ordination prayer not just anywhere but in the in the middle of the defined form of the sacrament – even I know that’s bad – and then picked it up later.   Carl stood there blinking like a cow. The diocesan communications girl was crying because the livestream was still running.

One of the canonists joined in, then another, and then one of the seniors.  They always do when there is blood in the water. One said “moral unity.” Another said “substantial interruption.” A third said “conditional ordination”.  Tommy said, “No. Proper ordination. Now. Before we go on.”   I said, “What will people think?!”  Tommy blinked and stared at me for a moment and said, “You can’t let these men act like priests.  Invalid Masses, problems with stipends, the noonch.”  He know how to get my attention.  I said, “Alright, Monsignor Tommy, you tell them.”  I gestured to the congregation.

He did.  He charged like Chester going at a donut straight at the ambo and with that calm voice of his announced something like, for the sake of certainty and for the good of the Church these men will serve, the correct rite of ordination will be carried out immediately.  We ask you to pray with with all your hearts for these men and thank God for the gift of the priesthood. Later half the people said they thought it was beautiful. The other half thought it was part of the rite.

Msgr Tommy sort of elegantly elbowed deacon Carl out of the picture and took over.  He had everything arranged and rest of the things needed down the line doubled checked in about two minutes. Two. I have committees that take two months to decide what color the bathroom signs should be.  He gave the nod.  By this time, poor dcn Bill was doing much better.

This time I laid hands first. Everybody in the sanctuary watched my hands like I was defusing a bomb. Then I prayed the whole prayer uninterrupted. Tommy nodded at me once with a smile and we continued with smooth precision, no Carl or binder in sight. Afterward the new priests thanked TOMMY.  The one who feinted apologized to me with tears in his eyes.

After a little while with blessings and shaking hands and chatting with people we went to Razzo’s, me, Tommy, Gilbert. Not Carl. I ordered the veal with extra mushrooms. Tommy had ossobuco. Gilbert had seafood pasta got sauce on his cuff.

Tommy was quiet at first. Then he said, “You know what happened.”

I said, “Yes, Monsignor. Deacon Carl happened.”

He said, “No. Sloppiness happened.”  I hate it when he is right.

Gilbert tried to help by saying, “At least it was fixed, and then stared into his pasta and didn’t help again.  I told Tommy I’d remove Carl from cathedral ceremonies. “From all ceremonies!” he said. Me, “He is the cathedral’s permanent deacon.” Tommy said, “Then permanently sit him somewhere else.” That made me laugh. I didn’t want to but I did.

Razzo himself came over with limoncello and said he heard we had a big day at the cathedral. I said, “You have no idea.” He said, “Bishop, in this diocese, assume I do.”

When I got home Chester had dragged one of my red slippers into the hall and was sleeping on it. He opened one eye as if to say he doubts about the validity of me.

I am tired. I am irritated. I am also relieved. Tomorrow I have to call the noonch’s office before someone sends them a clip. I will say we acted promptly out of an abundance of caution. That phrase covers a multitude of sins.  Gotta praise Tommy for intervening, which proves that we are after all really on top of things here.

Gotta fix things at the cathedral.  I mean, so long as they didn’t really impact me, it was okay, but this whole thing made me look really bad and was nearly a disaster.

Should I tear these pages out?