‘How are you a fucking priest?’ ‘I said the words,’ I told him. ‘I took the vow.’ ‘And that’s all there is to it?’ ‘Pretty much,’ I said. The ministry of Our Lady of Eternal Sorrows had little in the way of doctrine, or scripture. She wasn’t a goddess for learned men, for mystics or merchants or politicians. She was a goddess for soldiers, and most soldiers can’t even read.
