The Greatest Evil

22

It took only seconds for Father Koesler to recall Father McCarthy’s account, which pretty well documented the mind of Bishop Delvecchio.

The incident had taken place only a few months ago. Nothing could have changed much since then. And this was, by far, not an isolated experience. There seemed to be a vicious streak in the bishop-one that manifested itself in an element of vindictiveness, particularly when it came to priests he looked on as sinners.

Whatever had happened to that happy-go-lucky kid with the creative sense of humor who laughed at minor liturgy rules?

That kid seemed to have slipped into reverse at the death of his uncle. From that time on, Vincent grew increasingly rigid, cold, and literal when it came to interpreting and enforcing Church law.

Yet there were “bastard pastors,” as they were known by the clergy, who were far more universally autocratic and nasty than Delvecchio. There were those who would neither understand, forgive, nor tolerate a Sophie.

The nonbenevolent clerical tyrant was rare, but not unique. One such notorious soul, after installing comfortable new pews and kneelers in his church, ran short of money. Unable to outfit the entire church, he then issued an edict directing those attending with children to use the old and visibly tired pews. This was the pastor who had his ushers slash the tires of any automobiles in the church lot that were parked over the yellow line.

Vincent Delvecchio was a long way from that sort of despotism and capricious cruelty. Indeed, he could be downright expansive and generous as long as no rules were being broken or bent.

But there was this hangup as far as the behavior of the clergy was concerned, and, in general, a stiff-necked attitude toward those he perceived as sinners, even when any such person was not conscious of any sin.

However, in the light of his response toward the George Hacketts of this world, what reaction could be expected of Vince Delvecchio in the matter of Father Zack Tully?

On the one hand, it could be argued that Tully was breaking no law. To date, he was on record as being unwilling only to take an oath and profess a faith in a public ceremony. The canonical command insisted only that the pledges be taken by one-among others-who was becoming a pastor. There was no mention of any ceremony. Could there be, Koesler wondered, some way of squeezing through that hole in the law?

The possibility was worth further exploration.

Somehow, this crusade was growing within Father Koesler. If only he could recall more examples from Delvecchio’s past that might cast light on the way the bishop might react to Tully’s plight.

At least it was becoming more clear just what Koesler and Tully were searching for: the presentation or approach that might best elicit a favorable response from Delvecchio.

Whatever it was, it would have to be the opposite of a worst-case scenario: a head-on collision between the bishop’s insistence on a public liturgical event and a flat-out refusal on Tully’s part to have anything to do with such a demand.

But, as in almost any such dispute, the bishop, backed by Church law, held all the cards.

There had to be another way.

Tully’s throat-clearing pulled Koesler back from his reverie. “Yeah,” Tully mused, “if it happened once, it could happen again … couldn’t it?”

“Couldn’t what?”

“Sophie. The housekeeper!” How could Koesler have forgotten what they’d been talking about? It was Koesler’s story after all-and he’d finished it only moments ago.

However, in those moments, Koesler’s memory had raced through the incident involving Delvecchio, McCarthy, and George Hackett. Not only had Koesler replayed the story in fast-forward, he had determined not to cite it as an example of the care and feeding of this auxiliary bishop.

But that was all right. In determining a course of action, it helped to know what one wasn’t going to use because it wouldn’t work. “Oh yes,” Koesler said, “Sophie …”

“I mean,” Tully said, “the thing we could try to get over to the bishop is that this is a part of my background as a Josephite. We weren’t schooled to play out all our cards at once and in public. We had to be flexible for the sake of our parishioners.

“And, as a matter of fact, if parishioners have problems relating to the Pope in the way those documents demand, if my stand is not on public record, I’ll be able to respond to their view. I mean, if I take the Oath and Profession in a public ceremony, people with problems will shy away from me. They’ll assume that my mind is already made up. There’ll be no room for discussion.

“That’s something like Sophie, isn’t it? Delvecchio could understand that … couldn’t he?”

Koesler tilted his head in thought. “I guess so,” he said finally. Then he looked at Tully brightly. “We certainly could try it. But if we can find some other arguments-strong ones-it would help.”

Actually, Koesler doubted that Delvecchio would appreciate a comparison between Sophie’s background-plus-mandate-from-Mama and Tully’s Josephite indoctrination. But it was something. Koesler had introduced Sophie with the intention of indicating that Delvecchio did possess a sympathetic side.

“What time is it getting to be?” Tully asked, as they both glanced at their watches.

“Almost eight o’clock”-Tully answered his own question-“just about an hour till our guests start arriving. I think I’ll look in on the cooks-let ’em know we haven’t forgotten them.”

He headed for the stairs, then turned back. “You know, one of the problems I’ve got with Delvecchio is that he comes across like a knight in shining armor. As far as I can tell, he’s never done anything wrong. You certainly can’t fault him for enlisting your help with his aunt’s marriage problem. He has no responsibility for his uncle’s suicide.

“He had a breakdown when his mother died. Far as I know, there’s no morality in a nervous breakdown. You said a previous auxiliary did pretty much the same thing when his mother died.

“And in all the stories about Bishop Delvecchio, he’s forever conforming to the wishes of Mother Church. He just seems to never do anything wrong …” Tully paused a moment. “God forgive me, but I wish he would slip and be mortal. Just once. Then he might know what it’s like to be human and fail once in a while-like the rest of us.”

Koesler made no response. “Don’t get me wrong, Bob,” Tully said after a moment. “I wouldn’t want to be like him. But,” he said, as he turned back toward the stairs, “I wish he could be a little like me.”

And off he went to bolster the spirits of the cooks.

Alone, Koesler mused. I would have thought that things like the way Vince had treated George Hackett were ‘wrong.’ The compassion, understanding, and forgiveness that Vince was able to extend to a poor soul like Sophie were seemingly lacking in his other relationships. That I would have thought was ‘wrong.’

But I know what Zack had in mind: Wrong equals sin equals sex. For so many, illicit sex was the sin that carried a strong burden of shame.

It also awakened the prurient in others.

There was the funeral of France’s President Mitterrand. Among the mourners in procession and photographed at his casket were his wife, his mistress, and his illegitimate daughter. Could any such public figure in the United States have pulled that off?

Back to Zack and his whimsical wish that Delvecchio would join the rest of the human race and do something that would cause him embarrassment-read have a sexual encounter with somebody … anybody.

That and the resultant shame might bring him down to earth.

It just so happened that Father Koesler could speak to that question. But he would not do so.