April 3rd, 2026
Dear Diary,
McSwiney* set me up. I am so pissed off I could do something.
That Irish Setter kept going on about “reaching the peripheries” and proposed, the son of bitch, that I wash the feet of twelve quadriplegics. A “bold sign,” he called it. A “prophetic gesture.” Fr. Tommy tried to warn me to think through the mechanics before I agreed. McSwiney floated serenely above such concerns, as usual, wrapped in jargon and self-approval.
There they were. Wheelchairs, aides, braces, tubes, blankets, family members. Footrests and straps everywhere. The choir droned on and I saw that the whole thing was impossible, and that McSwiney KNEW it was impossible. He wanted me out there in public, stooping and fumbling while he stood off to the side looking grave and pastoral. There was a frantic whispered conference. Tommy had the expression of a man watching a train wreck arrive exactly on schedule. He whispered “hands”, just as McSwiney saw Tommy coming. The swine came up and mumbled something about maybe “hands”, realizing that Tommy beat him to it. He wanted credit for the solution.
After Mass, I was still furious. M came up with that sly little look and said, “Bishop, if you want, you and Tommy could hear some confessions now that the boxes are all cleaned out and working.”
So that was it. Revenge. He still has not forgiven me or Tommy for the confessional business, and this absurd Mandatum debacle was his way of paying me back.
I believe McSwiney has reached his own periphery.
Tomorrow is Good Friday, which at least imposes some order on the soul. One must think of the Passion, of the silence of the Church, of the abasement of the Lord, of the Cross that stands over every petty vanity and clerical intrigue. All very sobering. Also, if I am honest, one must think of fasting, which is less elevating when one knows in advance one is going to be hungry by about ten-thirty in the morning. A day of penance is a day of penance, of course. Still, I see no reason why the Resurrection should not be greeted properly. I’ll survive McSwiney, the liturgies, and the fast. I will make a substantial recovery at Razzo’s.
*Rector of the Cathedral, liberal.
