The Taoiseach must be something of a mentor to his colleagues, judging by their silence over evidence at the Mahon tribunal, writes Quentin Fottrell.
I DIDN'T grow up in one of those homes that had John F Kennedy, Charles J Haughey or Pope John Paul II on the mantel, though we did go through a brief decade-of-the-rosary period, hitting the decks for the Virgin Mary. Religiously, we were well-meaning and Catholic. Politically, we were left-leaning and agnostic. A family of five children, we spent more time fighting for airtime at the dinner table.
During my tenure as an altar boy - that's not an April's Fool, by the way, it seemed like a good idea at the time - my parish priest was Canon Francis Kenny. I didn't always listen to his sermons as I daydreamed or tried to spot a neighbour to wave at from the altar. But he was easygoing, kind, without a big ego, had a good handshake and raced through Mass. Magically, he got the service down to about half an hour.
One Sunday, when I was wearing my brother's old vestments, which were long, Fr Kenny whispered to me as I handed him the sacraments, "Be careful not to tripple." He didn't treat us like hired hands. It was not unlike him to spot a troubled face in the pews and seek them out afterwards. Seeing how he dealt with people, he would have been the closest thing I had at that time to a pastor or mentor.
Bertie Ahern must be something of a mentor to his colleagues, judging by their silence over evidence at the Mahon tribunal. Sometimes, you outgrow your mentor. Standing by a flawed one is fine, if they acknowledge mistakes. (That's a good lesson for followers too.) Failing a golden bullet explanation tomorrow, rather than more Elmer Fuddery, that's not a sustainable strategy for Ahernites.
As the High Priest of Drumcondra dithers and dathers, fiddles and faddles, his followers solemnly bend and sway in unison.
It took Fiona O'Malley's opening shot for Mary Harney to stand up and comment in her own wishy-washy way. (Harney bowed to higher powers before when she invoked the potential wrath of Vatican III in Brussels should we dare vote against the regrettable citizenship referendum.) Like a secretive papal enclave, Ahern's party colleagues appear largely unquestioning. But the health of their church is more important than the good of their country. No leader is bigger than that. Not even Ahern. And he knows it. Only when it looks like his departure is inevitable, and/or the survival of their church is at stake, will black or white smoke start rising from Leinster House.
Barack Obama has stood down his own papal enclave. He clearly fashioned himself on his own mentors, basing his "We are the change that we seek" mantra on Mahatma Gandhi's "We need to be the change we wish to see in the world".
With JFK and Robert Kennedy, he may have big shoes to fill. But by cribbing the philosophy of Gandhi, he must fill his ever-increasing footprints in the shifting political sands.
Obama had to decide to stand by, turn away from or, as he did, reject the words of but not renounce his former pastor Rev Jeremiah Wright, whose inflammatory comments spurred a valuable debate on race in America, rattled Obama's supporters and provided ammunition for his detractors who wondered if a radical fire-and-brimstone preacher man lurks beneath his unifying, slim-suited, mild-mannered exterior.
During 20 years at his church, Obama said he never heard Wright talk about the US government destroying blacks with HIV or crack cocaine. So why speak up now? The threat to his political life. He told the US television show The View on Friday: "Had the Reverend not retired [ and not repented] then I wouldn't have felt comfortable staying there at the church." Perhaps we all outgrow our mentors.
We don't have many leaders in Leinster House or the Vatican, if any, who truly inspire. I haven't found anyone to fill Fr Kenny's shoes, though I haven't really been looking. He died in 1981, before Bishop Eamon Casey fled the country in the dead of night like a pantomime villain, leaving his people powerless and without closure, before all the rest. Fr Kenny never failed me, even if the institution did.
I tried keeping an open mind. Once, while watching Buffy the Vampire Slayer, I invited two Mormons in for tea. I grimaced as I learned more about the Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-Day Saints. (The mood wasn't helped by the television in the background: "Die!!! Buffy!!! Die!!!"). These days, political and religious groups are out of the question. Beyond that, I wouldn't belong to a cult that would have me as a member.
Over the years, parishioners have dwindled at the Church of the Good Shepherd in Churchtown, Dublin 14, but Fr Kenny's presence remains. He insisted on being buried beside the church. It is the only grave there, in what is now a car park.
Whenever I doubt the goodness of other people or that of myself, I only have to think of his last loyal and committed gesture, and it always gives me hope.