The Shepherd
Daniel Kenny, a Catholic boy of good Irish stock, made his parents proud by finishing Harvard Law School at the top of his class. The Boston-born young man, whose name was prominent on the shopping list of at least a dozen of the country's leading law firms, clearly had a bright future ahead of him. On the day he passed his bar examination, however, he and a friend went to a pub on Boylston Street to celebrate. Just moments before closing time, Daniel stumbled out of the bar and walked out onto the street to hail a cab. But as he stepped off the curb, he was struck by a taxi, the driver of which had been moonlighting and fell asleep at the wheel.
By the time the ambulance arrived at the emergency room, Daniel was in a coma, and doctors had little hope of saving his life. It was touch and go at first, but a week later, his condition was upgraded from critical to guarded. Shortly thereafter Daniel's eyes fluttered open. His mother's tear-stained face was the first thing he saw.
"Mom?" he whispered through an aching throat made sore by the insertion and removal of breathing tubes.
"Oh, sweet Jesus!" his mother cried. "You've come to. Thank God!"
"What happened?"
"You were hit by a car," his father informed him. "You've been in the hospital for more than two weeks. We thought we'd lost you at first, but the doctors now assure us you'll recover."
A glimmer of a memory flitted across Daniel's brain.
"All I remember is seeing a bright light."
His mother's hand went to her throat, and she sobbed with joy.
"You weren't breathing, and your heart stopped. The white light must have been ...."
"It was probably the headlights of the taxi that hit him," her husband, a nonbeliever, concluded.
Yet the more Daniel thought about the accident, the more he was certain the light had been a divine force of some kind. By the time he was released from the hospital, he had convinced himself that his medical resurrection was a sign from God.
"You changed your mind about practicing law because you had some sort of epiphany?" his father asked with a mixture of surprise and disappointment when his son announced his intentions of enrolling in a seminary and becoming a priest.
"I wouldn't say it was an epiphany so much as a calling."
The older man sighed. He had been so relieved when his son went to Harvard and had not turned into one of the pot-smoking, draft-card-burning hippies that were so prevalent in his generation. Now Daniel wanted to throw his years of education out the window and become a priest. Still, a man of the cloth was much better than an unwashed, long-haired draft dodger.
"All right, Danny," his father announced. "Your mother gives you her blessings, and I ... well, I wish you luck on your choice of career."
* * *
Given his Harvard education and law degree, Daniel Kenny was not assigned to a church or a Catholic school. Fresh out of the seminary, he was appointed to the Archdiocese of Boston and worked on the archbishop's staff. He quickly became one of the big guns, responsible mostly for handling sticky public relations matters. Father Kenny proved adept at navigating the archdiocese through difficult times, including helping to smooth over a number of delicate racial and discrimination issues. To the best of his ability, the lawyer-turned-priest tried to serve the Catholic Church and bring it into the twentieth century.
For more than thirty years, Daniel prided himself on doing an admirable job (even though pride was something the church frowned upon). Attendance at mass across the city was up. The parochial schools were filled to capacity.
Now, if I could only get the Red Sox to win a World Series, I might be canonized as a saint, he thought with a smile on his face as he walked through the door of the archdiocese offices in Braintree one morning.
It was a day he would not soon forget. Just as being hit by a taxi inspired him to give up law and enter the priesthood, the phone call he received from one of the archdiocese's secretaries nearly made him run from the church, back to the cold embrace of Lady Justice.
A Catholic priest, the archbishop's personal secretary informed him, had been accused of molesting several children in his congregation. Usually, when such accusations were made in the past, matters were handled quietly. The priest in question was sent away for therapy, and the parents, believing the problem was solved, returned to the welcoming bosom of Mother Church. This time, however, a group of the allegedly molested boys—now grown men—was being represented by an attorney who was suing the church for damages.
"First all the talk about priests wanting to get married and now this!" the secretary grumbled when he met with Father Kenny to discuss possible strategies in handling the situation. "What's next? Will someone accuse the nuns of stealing bingo money to finance abortions?"
Unlike his fellow priest, Daniel did not resort to black humor.
"This is no laughing matter. It could get out of hand."
"No one's going to believe those lies that lawyer cooked up. You know how lawyers are: they'll sell their own mothers for a quick buck. Oh, I'm sorry. I forgot you used to be a lawyer."
"No offense taken. Still, while we can hope for the best, we must prepare for the worst."
"And that is?"
"Those men might be telling the truth. Perhaps the priest in question is a pedophile."
The secretary quickly crossed himself, as though the age-old gesture might ward off the storm that was brewing on the horizon.
It did little good. As Daniel had feared, in the weeks and months that followed, the situation worsened. It was as though Pandora's Box had been opened, and the troubleshooting priest could not find a way to contain the nightmare that had escaped. More men came forward with claims of molestation. More priests were named. And the worst of it all was that apparently people in the highest echelon of the archdiocese had known about these troubled clerics and had done nothing to protect the innocent young children entrusted to their care.
* * *
"What should we do?"
It was a simple question, one Father Kenny had heard dozens of times since receiving that fateful phone call from the archbishop's secretary, but it was one that he could not answer. He would just as soon be asked "What came first, the chicken or the egg?" At least then he would have a fifty-fifty chance of getting the answer right.
"So what are we to do?" the secretary repeated his question. "All hell has broken loose. It's become another witch-hunt out there. People are looking at every priest and wondering if he's a pederast. There are even those who are demanding the archbishop resign."
"I don't know if there is a quick fix here," Daniel admitted. "We might just have to ride this thing out and hope that people's faith in God and in Catholicism will prevail."
"Is that the best you can do: let's just wait and see? Is that what you got out of your years at Harvard? Maybe we should consult with someone who went to Notre Dame."
Daniel shrugged off the secretary's criticism.
"I've got nothing else to offer."
"Okay. Then I'm going to suggest to his Eminence that we hire a public relations firm—preferably one outside of Boston—that can shine up the tarnished image people have of the church lately."
"I don't think that's the answer. Car manufacturers and tobacco companies rely on PR firms. We're a religious organization. Surely you're not suggesting we package and sell redemption and spiritual guidance like a box of cereal? The people will see through all the hype and think we've really got something to hide."
"So what should we do then?"
That question again! Just as Daniel was about to give serious thought to casting aside the collar and becoming a highly paid defense attorney, his eyes lit on a framed print on the wall above the secretary's desk. It was a one of many pictures depicting Jesus Christ in the role of the Good Shepherd.
A smile brightened the priest's face.
"What are you looking at?" the secretary asked, turning around to see for himself.
"The Good Shepherd," Daniel uttered with reverence. "That's how most of us are introduced to Christ as children: a gentle shepherd tending his flock. That's what we need: a man who can inspire the people, gain their trust, fill them with the love of God, ease their worried souls—a true priest."
"Yeah, right," the other man remarked with sarcasm, "and let's hope he hasn't made any inappropriate remarks to the altar boy. Now, getting back to my idea, I see a big media campaign, newspapers, television, radio ...."
"I'm serious," Father Kenny insisted. "One man could succeed where all the trite slogans and propaganda fail. We need a simple man, a humble one, one with truth and goodness radiating from his face and eyes."
"Do you think we can find such a person?"
"This isn't Sodom and Gomorrah; it's Boston. Surely, we can find one righteous man among us."
But after interviewing several hundred priests and seminary students, Daniel found none to his liking. He felt like David O. Selznick, searching for the perfect actress to portray Scarlett O'Hara, and unfortunately there was no Vivien Leigh anywhere within the Boston Archdiocese. The lack of a believable Christ-like shepherd in the ecclesiastical community did not deter the church's number one troubleshooter, however. In the absence of a messiah, he chose the next best thing: an actor.
"We'll have to go about the selection process quietly," Father Kenny cautioned the archbishop's secretary. "We want people to believe this man is a real priest."
"You mean we're going to lie to them?"
"I like to consider it a little white lie, like when Father Murphy dresses up as Santa Claus, the Easter Bunny or Saint Patrick for the children every year."
Thus it was that for arguably the greatest role in history no casting call was made. There was no ad placed in Variety, no discreet notice in The Boston Globe's classified section. Instead, Daniel Kenny, sans his clerical uniform, walked into the offices of a New York talent agency and claimed he wanted to a hire an unknown actor to star in a series of television commercials.
The receptionist looked appreciatively at the handsome, middle-aged man—unaware that he had taken a vow of chastity—and led him to a room where binders full of actors' resumes were spread out on a conference table.
"I suppose you're only interested in unknown faces you can hire for scale. Obviously, if you were looking to hire someone famous, you'd be down at the William Morris Agency."
Daniel gave the receptionist's joke a courtesy laugh and thanked her for her help.
"Let me know if you see anything that interests you," she said, clearly an open invitation.
"Thanks. I will."
Daniel was glad there was a coffee machine in the room because he sat leafing through the binders for more than four hours. Many of the faces resembled police mug shots, which would be perfect if he planned on producing another sequel in The Godfather saga or an episode of The Sopranos. Even more of the actors were leading man candidates: handsome faces with dazzling smiles and bedroom eyes, hardly the image he was looking for.
Just as Daniel was about to give up hope, he saw a photograph that stood apart from all the others. The face was young and innocent, but the eyes held compassion and wisdom beyond their years. The name beneath the photograph was Joshua Chaney.
"I think I'll call you Father Ryan McDermott instead. That's a fine Catholic name. I like it."
But who was this actor? Father Kenny did not want to hire someone who might have starred in adult films. Think of the added grief it would cause the scandal-ridden Boston Archdiocese if Father McDermott turned out to be a former porn star. Daniel looked at Joshua Chaney's resume and was relieved to see that the actor had no previous acting experience, not even a TV commercial or a voiceover.
The incognito priest signaled to the receptionist, who from time to time had cast "I'm interested" looks at him through the glass wall.
"The experience section on this resume is blank," Daniel said when the receptionist came into the room. "Is this an oversight?"
The young woman looked at the resume a moment and replied, "Funny. I don't remember seeing this one before. But, no, this is no oversight. The resume is correct. This guy's a virgin. He's never done any professional acting."
Although Daniel faked a believable frown, inwardly he was smiling.
"Too bad. I was hoping to get someone with a little experience."
The priest committed Joshua Chaney's address to memory, put the resume back in its spot and snapped the binder shut. Then, after gently fighting off one final advance by the receptionist, Daniel left the building and returned to his hotel.
The following morning he took a cab to a small, sparsely furnished apartment in the Bronx, not far from Yankee Stadium—which to a Red Sox fan was akin to being behind enemy lines. Father Kenny buzzed Joshua's apartment and was surprised to find him at home in the middle of the morning.
When the priest described the role he was offering, the would-be actor showed a good deal of interest.
"You realize you must behave appropriately at all times," Daniel explained. "No drinking, smoking or swearing in public. Any relationships with women will need to be kept secret."
"That's no problem," Joshua assured him. "I don't have much of a personal life."
"This is a full-time commitment. Even when the archdiocese decides your services are no longer required, you won't be allowed to go to the tabloids and sell your story. The church will insist you sign a confidentiality agreement to that effect."
"You needn't worry, Father. I won't cause the church any embarrassment. I'll be as chaste and virtuous as an angel, on my best behavior at all times."
* * *
At the height of the pedophilia scandal in Boston, Joshua Chaney, now sporting long hair and a beard, was introduced by Father Kenny at an archdiocese press conference.
"If you have any further questions, my associate, Father Ryan McDermott, will handle them," Father Kenny told reporters.
Then the priest turned and gave the actor a nod of confidence.
Although the majority of the answers were written by Daniel and carefully rehearsed beforehand, Joshua Chaney delivered them as though they were spontaneous and sincere. When he was forced by necessity to adlib, he spoke intelligently and in line with the church's official position.
Father McDermott's words put the minds of Boston Catholics at ease. He spoke and they listened. Within a year, the Good Shepherd, as he became known, had his own website, newspaper column, radio show and local television program. There was even talk of his getting a spot on the Eternal Word Television Network.
As Father McDermott's fame grew, Daniel Kenny became more worried that someone would discover the Good Shepherd was an actor, not a priest. On the day after Father McDermott reached a tentative agreement with EWTN, he was called into Father Kenny's office.
"What did you want to see me about?" the actor asked.
"It's this network program," the priest told him. "I think it's a bad idea. The more exposure you get, the more likely it is someone will recognize you."
"I've told you before. You have nothing to worry about."
"It's too risky," Father Kenny insisted.
"I don't agree. This is the opportunity of a lifetime, and I don't intend on passing it up."
Apparently, now that Joshua Chaney tasted success, he wanted to move on to bigger and better things.
What's next? Daniel wondered. Does he envision himself recreating Bing Crosby's Father Chuck O'Malley role?
"I think it's time for you to take a sabbatical," the priest concluded. "We'll find someone—a real priest—to take over your website, radio show, newspaper column and local TV spot. You can shave your beard, cut your hair, move to another state and resume your life as Joshua Chaney. The archdiocese will naturally pay your moving expenses."
"I'll think about it," the actor said.
"What's there to think about? The crisis has passed; the church no longer needs your services."
"But I like what I'm doing. I enjoy being Father McDermott, the Good Shepherd, and I think I'm doing a great job of it."
"Look, if it's money you want ...."
"Money, right. That's the church's solution to everything isn't it? Pay me off and hope I'll go away. Only I'm not in it for the money. I believe in the work I do."
"You're living a lie. You're not a priest; you're an actor."
"I'm doing God's work, spreading His word. Even though I've never attended a seminary or been ordained, in my heart I'm still a priest."
As Daniel watched Father McDermott leave the room, he felt like Dr. Frankenstein watching his monster heading toward a crowd of unwary villagers.
* * *
When Father Kenny arrived at his office the next morning, he was handed a stack of telephone messages. The thickness of the pile indicated that there was a critical situation that needed his handling.
Please don't let there be another Father Geoghan, he silently prayed.
As luck would have it, the situation proved to be much worse than that. Father Ryan McDermott had discarded his archdiocese-approved script and voiced his own opinions on his website and his early-morning radio show.
The archbishop himself phoned Daniel with the news.
"Did you hear what Father McDermott is saying?"
"No," Daniel replied, hating to be taken by surprise.
The Pandora's Box following the accusations of sexual misconduct by Boston priests was a Cracker Jack box compared to the piano crate Father Ryan McDermott's comments opened.
"He said it's time for the church to step up to the times. He's calling for equal rights for women and gays in the church. He contends that priests and nuns should be allowed to get married and have children, and he's in favor of same sex unions."
"Good God!" Father Kenny exclaimed, falling down into his desk chair with a thump.
"Wait. It gets better. He says the church should reconsider its views on birth control, euthanasia and abortion. And he claims most of our churches are too ornate and our ceremonies archaic."
Daniel knew that many priests shared some of these views, but none dared speak them in public. And here was Father Ryan McDermott announcing his liberal opinions to the world. Father Kenny knew what was coming. He closed his eyes and waited.
"This Good Shepherd business was your idea," the archbishop reminded him. "What are you going to do about it?"
* * *
Daniel Kenny did not sleep that night. He stayed awake wrestling with his conscience. Even though he knew his first loyalty was to the church, he could not help feeling he owed Joshua Chaney a debt as well. In the end, he had no choice but to discredit the actor for the good of the Catholic community.
That afternoon Father Kenny went to the small church in South Boston where Father McDermott taped his weekly local television show. As he walked through the archway, Daniel overheard the Good Shepherd delivering his benediction.
"Stop the camera," the genuine priest commanded.
"Father Kenny?" the actor asked with surprise.
A large crowd of spectators had gathered in the church to watch the filming, and they were annoyed at the interruption.
"You can all go home now," Father Kenny informed them politely. "I'm afraid the Good Shepherd's show has been cancelled."
"You can't do this," Joshua protested.
"I can and I am."
"Please stay, everyone. Even if there is to be no television program, I will speak to you from the pulpit."
It was Daniel who talked to the spectators, however.
"I hate to be the bearer of bad news, but Father McDermott has had a breakdown. For his own good, we are sending him away for a nice, long rest."
Father Kenny signaled with his hand, and two brawny hospital orderlies headed toward the actor.
"Don't think I don't know why you're doing this," Joshua cried. "You want to put me away so that the people won't hear the truth, so they won't learn who I really am."
"This poor man is delusional. He doesn't know what he's saying," Daniel shouted.
"Enough," the actor said, in a voice barely above a whisper.
But everyone heard him, and everyone became silent.
Joshua Chaney/Father Ryan McDermott stood in the pulpit and raised his head and arms toward the ceiling. To the astonishment of everyone in the church, gaping wounds appeared on his wrists, and drops of blood dripped from his forehead. Father Kenny knew there were documented cases of stigmata, but he had never seen one.
"This is a common form of hysteria," he announced in a weak voice.
"Good people, I have deceived you," Father McDermott apologized to his flock.
Daniel would have protested, but his voice failed him.
"I am not Father Ryan McDermott," Joshua confessed. "I never went to a seminary school. I was never ordained. I'm not even a Catholic."
A cry of surprise rose from the audience. Daniel felt his legs go limp. This was his worst nightmare come true. When the archbishop—possibly even the pope—heard of this, his career would be over. He would be lucky if he were trusted to run a bingo game in Pigsknuckle, South Dakota.
"My name is not Ryan McDermott," the man in the pulpit cried. "It is Jesus Christ."
He really IS insane! Daniel thought.
There just might be hope for his career after all. No one would pay attention to the ravings of a lunatic who believed he was Christ.
"I am the son of God, and I have come back to earth to remind you of the lessons I taught more than two thousand years ago."
Daniel looked at the faces of the faithful in the pews. He imagined the people stared at Jesus with the same rapt look when he gave his sermon on the mount.
Surely, they're not buying his ridiculous claims!
As though Joshua had read his mind, the actor pointed at Daniel and cried, "Ye of little faith, look and know the truth."
The actor's words were punctuated by the crash of stained glass windows. An explosion rocked the church, but no one was injured. The windows were the only casualty. Daniel looked from the open holes in the wall to the man in the pulpit. The familiar cassock and surplice were gone. In their place, Joshua was wearing the simple robe of the savior.
"Father Daniel Kenny," the modern-day messiah spoke directly to the middle-aged priest. "Come down from your lofty perch and bring God's message to the people. He saved your life for a reason, and it wasn't to whitewash the sins of errant priests or mitigate church scandals."
Father Kenny caught his breath and fell to his knees. He wanted to hide his face in shame from the all-knowing eyes of the lord.
"Step into my sandals, and be the Good Shepherd you manufactured for the media. Even if you must leave the strict confines of the Catholic Church to do so, spread the true word of God's love and mercy, and proclaim peace, tolerance and brotherhood throughout Boston and the world."
Tears fell down Father Kenny's face, and he actually sobbed when he saw Jesus engulfed in the warm glow of divine light and then vanish. The people in the church—TV cameramen, film crew and spectators alike—turned toward the priest for guidance and confirmation of the miracle they had just witnessed.
What should I say?
The question raced through Daniel's brain. When he rose from his knees and stood on unsteady legs, several people gathered nearby gasped in awe.
"Look!" an elderly woman cried and pointed to his lower arms.
The blood of a stigmatic dripped from the priest's wrists to the carpeted church floor.
"Praise the lord!" Father Daniel Kenny shouted with religious fervor. "We have all witnessed the second coming of Christ. Let us rejoice and spread the word: God so loved us that he sent us his only son—not once but twice."
Salem's idea of a good shepherd is one that shares his kibble.
