Parce Sepultis. But Not Too Much.

My cat will not be able to teach him Catholicism now…

Parce Sepultis, they say in my native Country. However, when the sepultus is a public figure who has given great scandal, I would say that the matter must be looked at differently. Firstly, because we must fight against scandal, and secondly, because we must expose those who spread it, be they dead of alive.

The latter ( that is: dead) is the case of Bishop O’Connell, who was shot dead in his bed by the husband of a woman working for him. Quite the surprise, begorrah!

Day of the Lord, cometh, and thief in the night all come to mind.

O’Connell was, as it is by now printed everywhere, a serious heretic. He was a guy to whom my cat could have thought Catholicism, with great advantage for the bishop, but not without dangers for the spiritual health of the cat. He was, in short, radioactive.

The circumstances of his death are, shall we say, strange. As a rule, homicidal husbands of his female “coworkers” do not happen to find themselves in the bedroom of a bishop. Stranger things happened at sea, you will say. But this was not at sea. This was in a bedroom. Methinks, there was something that had to do with the bishop’s private life.

Why do I say this? Could this not have just been a home invasion gone bad, where the victim recognises the invader who stole the house key (but why did she have the key?) from the wife, etc? The problem, you see, lies in the fact that the man was clearly a heretic.

As I have often stated in this little effort, in case of a heretical priest, or prelate, the first place to look for the cause of his heresy is below his waistline. They know that they are unworthy priests, and they seek validation, approbation, and the courage to look at themselves in the mirror exactly the way this man did: promoting the normality of sexual perversion, blabbering about female ordination, and being on record that Francis “gets it”; which, really, says it all.

Bishop O’Connell “got it”, too. But it was a bullet in the chest, sent his way by, as it is very reasonable to assume in case of a “progressive” bishop, either his lover, or the husband of his lover.

Will we ever know the truth? Possibly, but not assuredly. A “progressive” bishop is a great asset for the all-conquering California Democrats. They, too, “get it”: the discovery that O’Connell was either a sodomite or, at his age, a bed athlete will seriously damage that particular brand of circus Catholicism. I will, therefore, not bet my pint on a serious investigation. Remember, this is a Country where elections get brazenly stolen, and laptops cancelled from official existence.

Then there is the personal aspect. Whether shot in his sleep, or not, this looks like a very rapid end. One doubt that an inveterate heretic like this tool (now late tool) would muster the presence of spirit for a perfect contrition. This means that, as I write this, the late Bishop O’Connell might well be in the company of a great number of V II Bishops, hating them greatly and being hated back with the same energy. If he is there now, I wonder if he still thinks that Francis “gets it”?

But we don’t wish him hell. We wish him purgatory. I am happy to say I managed, with great effort, to say three eternal rests for him.

Parce Sepultis.

And let’s hope his successor is a Catholic.