Rite and Reason:Following the general election campaign, a penitent journalist goes to confession. Patsy McGarryreports
'Bless me Father, for I have sinned."
"Yes, my child?"
"It's been five years since my last confession and I. . ."
"Five years. . .! I've saintly old ladies coming in here every week and you haven't been to confession in five years?"
"I normally don't need to, Father. I don't. . . I live a good life. On the moral high ground."
"You are a journalist then, my child?"
"Yes, Father."
"Oh dear. This could take time. I've a wedding in an hour. Could you come back on Saturday?"
"Please, Father. I haven't slept since Friday. It won't take long. Normally I do a good job. I am fair and objective . . ."
"I know all about how fair and objective journalists can be, my child . . . "
". . .Thank you, Father. . ."
". . .I am a Catholic priest, after all. Go ahead then."
"It's Fianna Fáil, Father. They bring out the worst in me at election time . . ."
". . .Were you in here after the last general election five years ago?"
"Yes, Father."
"Go on . . ."
"When it comes to elections I just can't help myself. I do things I would never dream of doing normally . . ."
"Like what, for instance?"
"Trying to dig up dirt on Fianna Fáil, particularly Bertie. Without him they'd hardly be at the races. Even the Galway races!"
"Yes, my child . . ."
"Some of the things I wrote about him this past month verged on rash judgment, calumny and detraction - you know, those sins against the Eighth Commandment?"
"Yes, my child . . ?"
"I mean, hinting at his marriage break-up under the guise of investigating his personal finances. Deliberately drawing in the involvement of his former partner in those transactions."
"And why do that, my child?"
"I thought it would favour Enda Kenny, whose marriage is happy. And I set out to suggest Bertie was corrupt, though there was no evidence to support it."
"Terrible things to do, my child."
"I know Father. But I couldn't help myself. Just as I couldn't in 2002 or 1997."
"You were here in 1997 too?"
"Yes, Father. I know. It's just that I can't stand them. They drink Bass instead of Wolf Blass. They have loads of money but dress like they shop in Dunnes Stores. They always look sunburnt not tanned. And they walk as if still in the bog and unsure of their footing. They're just . . ."
"Human beings like you and me, my child?"
"I know, Father. But why can't we have someone with more class as Taoiseach? A less befuddled version of Garret, even. Instead of that gardener's son . . ."
"Did you say carpenter's son?"
"No, Father. His father was head gardener in All Hallows . . ."
"Oh. I thought you said 'carpenter'. Like Joseph, step-father to Jesus."
"Well Father, Bertie is no Jesus. Even if he has performed a few miracles, was crucified, rose from the dead, and everyone in Fianna Fáil thinks he's God!"
"My child, it is blasphemy to compare anyone or anything to the Son of God, no matter how they have suffered."
"I would never compare him to Jesus, Father. Besides, he is from Drumcondra."
"That's where the Archbishop lives, my child."
"I know Father, but he's not from there. I even have to confess, Father, I don't think Enda is quite right either. I mean, he's from Mayo."
"It's the only place in Ireland where the Virgin Mary appeared, my child."
"I know, Father. I don't understand that either. Or why Fianna Fáil seems to be permanently in government. Or why the best people rarely get into power here."
"All part of the great mystery of life, my child. Like suffering or the meaning of existence, we have no answers. We must accept them as the will of God."
"It is hard, Father."
"I know my child, but remember nothing is constant. Pain, like happiness, passes away. Fianna Fáil will too, some day. Is that all?"
"Yes, Father."
"I hope when I give you absolution your conscience will be clear and you can sleep tonight."
"It's not my conscience that's keeping me awake . . ."
"No. . .?"
"It's the likelihood of five more years of Fianna Fáil in government . . ."
"Now, listen here my child, before I give you absolution you must really be sorry for what you have done and promise God you will never do anything like it again."
"Yes. I understand that, Father. What is my penance?"
"After 10 years of Fianna Fáil in government with maybe five more years of the same ahead, I think that is enough penance for you."
"Thank you, Father."
• Patsy McGarryis Religious Affairs Correspondent of The Irish Times