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No Conception |
Long long ago, so long ago that it predated the Second Vatican Council, there lived a Parish Priest in a parish that hosted a hospital which had a special maternity wing for errant young ladies, all of which was run by an order of nuns.
One day the PP felt most unwell and developed a searing pain in his innards.
He was rushed to hospital and operated on immediately, and successfully, for gallstones.
Now, the nuns had a problem. Their accommodation for the young ladies was at a premium and so, once a baby was born, the relevant young lady would be sent back out into the big bad world, or to a holy laundry or into a service of some kind or other.
Then the baby would be put up for adoption and once adopted the file would be closed, or lost, or something.
However, demand for babies for adoption was waning as the sexual proclivities of the population at large, and particularly the males among them, in this pre-Vatican II era, was producing more than enough babies to satisfy domestic demand, so to speak.
The nuns, however, were not equipped to support an orphanage alongside their other activities and so were under serious pressure to offload the babies by hook or by crook (mind you that last word for later).
One particular nun, sister Alex, had a very creative streak and was forever coming up with new ways of passing on the babies.
In this context the PP's gallstones might as well have been sent by God himself, because they led to Sister Alex having one of her flashes of inspiration.
She went to see the PP in the recovery room.
"Father, a most unusual thing has happened. You will be aware of the conception and birth of Jesus to a virgin. Well, your problem was that you were pregnant and have now given birth to a fine baby boy."
Needless to say the PP was bowled over by this bit of news, but he was now feeling much better and not at all in pain, and, after all, God's will was God's will.
So he took the boy home and raised him as his own.
And all was well.
Eventually the time came to tell the boy the facts of life and the PP, being a kind man and aware of his responsibilities, took this onerous duty upon himself.
"Son" he said. "The time has come for me to tell you the facts of life, like how you came into this world and all that. You remember how all these years I gave you to understand that I was your father. Well, I'm afraid that was a bit of a fib. I'm not your father. I'm your mother. The Bishop is your father."
[Source: béaloideas - oral tradition]