The First Woman Cardinal of the Catholic Church, III

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The First Woman Cardinal of the Catholic Church, III

 
By Melissa Tawn
 
Will the Catholic Church canonize an Irish transsexual? It depends, to a large extent, on Cardinal O'Connor's recommendation.


 
 

While each story in this series is independent of the others, it is highly recommended that one read the first two stories, in order to understand how Cardinal O’Connor transitioned and became the first woman cardinal of the Catholic church.

A few weeks after the taping of Mary-Anne Cardinal O’Connor’s interview with the BBC, which was never broadcast, Cardinal Leone, the Vatican Secretary of State, summoned the cardinal to his office. Cardinal O’Connor was sure that the interview would be the topic of the conversation, but was surprised that Cardinal Leone asked a completely different question.

“Are you familiar with maid Fanchea of Leinster?” he began.

“Fanchea of Leinster was a medieval Irish holy woman -- not to be confused with St. Fanchea of Killeaney.” replied Cardinal O’Connor, “She too is widely regarded as a saint, though never officially canonized by the Church. In particular, many young Irish teenage girls pray for her intercession to help preserve their virginity in the face of possible sexual assault. Many young girls have taken to wearing a medallion with her image as a talisman against the possibility of violation, when they attend rock concerts or other such events at which they feel their innoncence to be at risk. Why is she of interest?”

“The Irish church requested her canonization over five hundred years ago,” replied Cardinal Leone, “but the process was never completed. While there are plenty of affidavits regarding miracles ascribed to her intercession and — as you said — in preserving young girls from unwanted sexual assault, and while the belief in her holiness is widespread in parts of Ireland, there is a problem because, quite frankly, we have absolutely no evidence that she ever actually existed. Now, for various reasons, the Holy Father has decided to reopen the canonization proceedings and push for their completion, as a gesture to the Irish people.”

“It would not have anything to do with Fanchea Meehan, the former Irish foreign minister, being elected President of the European Commission, would it?

“The Vatican has many interests in maintaining good relations with the institutions of the European Union,” replied Cardinal Leone, and chuckled. “In any case, the Holy Father has requested that you head an investigatory committee which will travel to Ireland to try and find further documentation proving the actual existence of the maid Fanchea of Leinster, which may allow us to proceed with her canonization.”

“Now surely that is a convenient way of getting me out of Rome, and away from television cameras.” remarked Cardinal O’Connor.

“Perhaps,” smiled Cardinal Leone, “but, after all, you are a famous scholar and expert on the medieval church, as well as being the only member of the College of Cardinals fluent in both Medieval Latin and Gaelic. We need somebody with a high profile to head the committee, and you are the natural choice, since you are both Irish and ... (and here Cardinal O'Connor noted that the Secretary of State paused for just a split second) a woman. The truth be told, your name came up for this project several months ago, so let us just say that the recent … unfortunate incident … helped hurry the decision a bit.”

“Who will be the other members of the committee?” asked Cardinal O’Connor.

“I suggest Father Edward Laffey and Sister Elizabeth Dwyer, both of the Pontifical Institute,” replied Cardinal Leone. “They are acknowledged experts on medieval Irish manuscripts and I know that you have worked closely with them in the past. Of course, if you wish, you can insist on someone else.”

“They are certainly a good team,” replied Cardinal O’Connor. “I am quite satisfied with them.”

It took a month for the team to assemble and make the necessary preparations. They made arrangements to work in the rare document section of the library at Trinity College, Dublin, and hired several graduate students to help them gather and organize the materials. By the time they arrived in Dublin, the students had assembled for them all known manuscripts which might be somehow related to the time and place of maid Fanchea of Leinster.

After four months of very hard work, however, frustration began to replace hope. The kingdom of Laigin (Leinster) was very old, dating back to the second century AD, and had a long written tradition. Many medieval manuscripts and chronicles written in Leinster exist, and all of them were checked and rechecked. But there was no mention of Fanchea at all, until over a hundred and fifty years after the traditional date of her death. Even then, she is not mentioned directly, but the chronicler merely records the fact that many people seek her intercession as a saint and holy woman. There is a definite possibility that he was really referring to Fanchea of Killeaney, but became confused over the dates of her life. Several reliable chronicles and other documents from the time she was supposed to have lived exist, but they do not mention her at all.

Then, late one night, a break came. Cardinal O’Connor was about to return to the shelf a beautiful 12th-century copy of “Felir锝, a poetical work on the saints of Ireland written by St. Aengus in the 8th century and copied may times since then, when she seemed to sense that one of the covers seemed a bit thicker than the other. Using calipers, she confirmed that this was indeed the case. (Later, thinking back over the matter, she wondered if her ability to feel such a small difference in width was itself almost a miracle, and just perhaps may have been due to some divine intervention.) Carefully, she slit the leather of the binding with a razor blade and, sure enough, hidden in it was a folded sheet of vellum, covered in miniscule writing. With growing excitement, she carefully unfolded the sheet, put it under a magnifying glass, and began to read it, writing down a translation from the Gaelic into modern English as she went along.

“It is God’s will that my eyes cloud over and soon I will no longer be able to use my pen. May He be merciful and allow me, poor Fanchea, time to relate the true story of my life, and then may He have pity on my entrapped soul.

My father, whom I never knew, was a soldier in the service of king Diarmait mac Enna Mac Murrough in his wars against the high king Tairrdelbach mac Ruaidri Ua Conchobair. He also worked a small farm when there was no fighting to be done. My mother bore him three healthy sons, and then, over a period of ten years, five more children — two boys and three girls — were born, all of whom died before they reached their third year. I was her last child. Shortly before my birth, my father was called to the fighting yet again, and he took with him the three brothers I never met, the oldest to learn the trade of war and the younger two to act as grooms and arms bearers for some of the lords, as a way of preparing their future. She never saw them again, for they all perished together in a terrible battle, or so she was told.

Though I was born with the body parts of a boy, my mother was determined that I would never be taken from her to go to war, and so she raised me as a girl, and gave me the girl’s name of Fanchea. On nights of a full moon, she would gather up special herbs and other odd and mysterious plants, soak them in the urine of a pregnant mare, and then bake the result into little cakes which I ate three times a day for all of my life. As a result this, and of her constant prayers for the intercession of the Virgin, I grew up as fine and pert a lass as you will find in the kingdom. Though I still had those parts between my legs, they were as small as those of a boy of five. My breasts were nearly as large as those of my mother, and my voice remained as sweet and pure as hers. In all things, and especially in my soul, I was a lass and thought of myself only as such, even allowing that I be deformed down where a girl most exhibits her femininity.

My mother raised me in extreme piety and impressed on me the importance of modesty and preserving my modesty and virginity at all costs. When the boys tried doing to me as they do to all of the girls, I fended them off and did not allow them to see that, between my legs, they would not find what they expected, though like any other girl, at times I rather desired that they overcome my defenses. The Holy Virgin also preserved me, for at many a time she gave me courage to say nay to a boy to whom I would have gladly said yea, and to put fear in the hearts of boys who would impose their will on other girls.

All this my mother did so that I would never be called to go to the fighting, but as fate would have it, the fighting came to us. When I was but 15, and away in the fields, the soldiers came to plunder our crops and burn our farm. My blessed mother tried to defend herself from them, and was most cruelly slain on the spot.

When I came back at dusk, they took me and, finding me comely, were prepared to take their pleasure upon me. But, in answer to my prayers, the Holy Virgin interceded on my behalf and positioned herself between me and the soldiers. As the captains rode on their horses towards me, the horses fell unto their knees and bowed their heads to her in prayer, throwing their riders. Then, as the soldiers rose up and bared their swords, the hilts turned red hot and they dropped them with a cry. Indeed, they must have seen the image of the Virgin for just an instant, for they fell on their knees and begged her forgiveness at their evil thoughts. Then they, very gently, escorted me to their commander, relating to him what had happened.

It was decided that I be taken to the camp of their lord, the Welshman Robert Fitz Stephen, and they treated me like a highborn lady along the way, careful not to touch my person or even come too near me, for they feared me greatly. Robert Fitz Stephen was a mighty warrior and lieutenant of the great justiciar Hugh de Lacy. He feared neither man nor God, nor did he fear the Virgin. He laughed at their story and said that if they did not touch me nor disturb my virginity, it was only to save me for him, and indeed I was a truly comely lass worthy of his personal attention.

At his direction, the ladies of his court bathed me, arrayed me in fine garments and dressed my hair. But the Virgin was with me and made them not see those parts which I had to hide, and they thought me nought but a girl and told me all stories about what to expect in lord Robert’s bed, which they had all experienced. And, indeed, while part of me wished to share a bed with this most manly man, all the while I prayed in my soul for salvation.

Again, the Virgin took pity on me and sent to me one of the soldiers, a comely young man himself of no more than 16 years, who was to guard me but, instead, offered to rescue me. When I nodded in what he took to be agreement, he brought me secretly the clothes and arms of a man of war and, together, we left the encampment, supposedly on a mission to hunt rabbits for our lord’s supper. Instead, he lead me to a road along which I made my escape. He was a good and well-meaning boy, and mightily handsome as well, and daily I pray that he came to no harm for what he did.

Hiding by day and walking by night, I managed after a long trek to reach the sanctuary of the monastery at Tallaght, which was a most holy place, having been the home of St. Maelruain and St. Aengus many centuries ago. The monks again had pity on me and took me in, giving me the clothing and cell of one of the brothers who had passed away just the day before. I was called by his name and found it my lot to have to disguise myself as a male. And so, for the remainder of my days, I lived as a monk whom all of the other monks believe to be a maid, though I alone knew that I had, underneath my shift, male parts with which I was mistakenly born.

The monks of Tallaght helped spread the rumor that I had been martyred by the men of Robert Fitz Stephen for refusing to lie with him and, while that not be the literal truth, it is what most certainly would have been my fate had I remained in his camp. Since I had a fair hand, I was put to work in the monestary scriptorium, copying and binding old manuscripts, in one of which I will hide this confession. May it be the wish of God, that the person who finds it pray for my soul.”

Cardinal O’Connor smiled as she reread Fanchea’s account, and shed a tear for Fanchea's poor tormented soul imprisoned in a tormented body. She would need to tidy up her translation, of course, but she was confident that Ireland would soon have a new saint. The others on the committee were, however, less sure. “So Fanchea was really a man,” remarked Father Laffey when he read the document. “That kills his chances of sainthood, I am afraid. We certainly can’t have a male saint who went around dressed as a maid.”

“How a person dresses is certainly not a critical factor,” replied Sister Dwyer. “Remember that St. Joan of Arc dressed routinely in men’s clothes.”

“That is true,” replied Father Laffey, “but she never claimed to be a male, nor is she considered a male saint. Here we have a case of a saint who not only dressed as a woman but claimed to be one as well, even when, at the end of his life, he lived as a monk. Moreover, we have the additional complication that Fanchea of Leinster is widely adored as a woman and his intercessions are that of a female saint. It would hardly do to tell the young girls who look to the protection of Fanchea, that he was really a man.”

“And it would be wrong to do so to,” replied Cardinal O’Connor, “for in my eyes, as I believe in the eyes of the Lord, she was really a maid. The fact that Fanchea's body had ‘male parts’, as she says, has nothing to do with her soul, which is most assuredly female. There is surely nothing in her account to suggest that, even at the end of her life, she considered herself anything but female, nor that the monks among whom she lived did either. Moreover, Robert Fitz Stephen and his soldiers certainly acted towards her as though she was a female, and the miracles the Holy Virgin performed to preserve her innocence are those that would only be done for a female. Certainly you are not accusing the Holy Virgin of being unable to discern her 'real' gender. On the contrary, by protecting her the Virgin is quite definitely asserting Fanchea's fundamental femininity."

“We are aware of the theological arguments you have put forth in your recent book,” countered Father Laffey, “but you will admit that they are — to say the least — somewhat controversial. They are hardly material on which to base a canonization.”

“This is more than a theological argument,” replied Cardinal O’Connor. “We must also listen to the faithful. Generations upon generations of young girls have asked for the intercession of Fanchea of Leinster to save them from sexual assaults, and many have been answered. Are we to tell them that their faith was misplaced because we are more interested in the body parts of the maid Fanchea than in the nature of her soul? In any case, it is not the job of this committee to decide these points. Our purpose was to find evidence of her actual existence, and that we have surely done. Let us make our report on that point alone, and let the postulator-general carry on from there."

On that the committee members, after long arguments, finally agreed. Their final report merely stated that they had come across a manuscript in Fanchea's own hand, stating that she had been abducted by the soldiers of Robert Fitz Stephen, brought to him, and later escaped, hiding out in a monestary disguised as a monk. All reference to her "body parts" was omitted. A copy of the manuscript (but not the full translation) was attached to the report, of course. Cardinal O'Connor was rather doubtful that anyone at the Vatican, save the three members of the committee, was capable of deciphering it.

Notes:

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