The Greatest Evil

28

Murphy’s Law prevailed. If four months of abstinence was the worst possible scenario, that’s how it would play out: Three months segued into four as the instruction lessons dragged on.

Tony’s lifestyle for the past three months had been monastic. It had not been a rose garden. But at least the pro season hadn’t yet begun, so he didn’t have to accompany the teams on the circuit.

He had plenty of time-too much time-on his hands. Under normal circumstances he would have solved this problem by reading, or visiting with friends, or with exercise.

But he grew so fixated on his nonsexual state that it became impossible to concentrate on any book. He grew increasingly fidgety and quarrelsome in the company of friends. With no other outlet, more and more he fell back on exercise-lots of exercise. But there was a limit even to that. There he was, in the full vigor of healthy virility …

He was now close to peak condition physically-to the extent that he was nearly in shape to join the players. But he was not foolish enough to try.

Increasingly during the past three months, Tony had stayed away from home as much as possible. Particularly on those nights he was “out with the boys,” he tried to return after Beth’s normal bedtime. He had given his word, and he would keep it. But he didn’t have to make it any more difficult than it already was.

Particularly on those evenings when they dined together, he got a refresher course in basic Catholic teaching.

For one thing, he was being “bishoped” to death. Apparently, Beth seemed incapable of pronouncing Vince’s name without prefixing his title. And, apparently, the bishop did nothing to dissuade her from what had become ingrained.

Tony was somewhat surprised at what Vinnie was teaching Beth.

Tony was a voracious reader. And although he was not much interested in religious news, he was aware of the Second Vatican Council and some of its effects on Catholics.

As far as he could tell, a liberal wing had formed as a result of the Council. He had no idea of its numbers nor of its strength. But it seemed to be waging a blitzkrieg on an entrenched conservative force.

Tony had no intention of enlisting in either camp. But if he were forced to choose, from what little he knew of each, he found himself leaning toward the left.

And there the question would undoubtedly have stood-with no participation on his part-had not Beth committed herself to these instructions.

As these sessions continued, and as Beth reported what she was learning, he found himself more and more paying attention. It seemed that he had heard these things before. Could these doctrines, these moral laws, be the ones he’d learned in parochial school? Indeed, they could be.

As Beth recounted what she was learning, she might as well have been one of the nuns, brothers, or priests who had drummed these teachings into Anthony Delvecchio’s young head.

Satan held sway in the world. Thus the world was a threat, a threat to our immortal souls. We had to have a guide to lead us in safe passage through the world, the flesh, and the devil.

That guide is Holy Mother Church. The Church had guaranteed indefectibility as well as, occasionally, infallibility. From this came laws and rules. There was a distinct comfort in abiding by these laws and rules in that this would give us a safe journey through temptations and blandishments.

That was about the way Tony remembered it from school. The law said Catholics must not eat meat on Fridays. When Catholics observed that law, they were justified. The law said Catholics must attend Mass on Sundays. When Catholics did this, they were justified. The law said Catholics must support their parish. When they did this, they were justified.

It was all very comforting and reassuring. Did. you wish to go to heaven? The Church, in the person of the Pope, the bishop, and/or the priest, told you exactly how to get there.

To borrow again from W. S. Gilbert, you did not have to think for yourself at all-just obey.

It all came back to Tony quite clearly. From what little interest he’d had in what was going on currently, he believed this is what the altercation was about.

The other side held that the Pope was the tour guide, not the captain, of the Bark of Peter. The Church, in the person of Pope, bishop, priest, theologians, etc., could be a unique aid in helping each Catholic form his or her individual conscience. But the ultimate responsibility for conscience formation and conscience following rested with the individual Catholic.

There was much more to what was going on … that Tony sensed. He regretted that he hadn’t paid more and closer attention to the evolution of his Church over the decades he’d been “away.”

What was obvious-and exceedingly clear-was that Vinnie was giving unadulterated pre-Council instructions to Beth and she was conforming to this school of thought like a compliant student to a persuasive instructor. For Beth, it was like becoming aware of Beethoven, Mozart, or Gershwin late in life and wondering where they’d been hiding all along.

To have someone other than herself making rules and decisions seemed to Beth to be the perfect way to go through life en route to heaven.

Tony had just come to the realization of what was happening to Beth when, at the end of the fourth month, she dropped the bomb.

She had prepared lamb chops and secured his promise that he would be home for dinner. He knew Something Was Up. Exactly what would have to await her good pleasure.

Once again, over coffee and dessert, Beth made an announcement.

She had completed the instruction phase of this program. The four-month period was over.

Tony thought this great news. Perhaps this meal was a celebration. But if so, it was not Beth’s usual MO.

She said that having finished the instructions, she had decided to become Catholic. This, after having heard her running commentary of the instructions, came as no surprise to Tony.

She would not need to be baptized. She had been baptized Lutheran but the Catholic Church recognized the baptism of other Christian denominations.

That was a surprise to Tony. That had not been part of his parochial classes. In his day, converts were rebaptized “just in case” the prior effort lacked something for validity.

So there would be a simple ceremony and Beth would become Catholic.

Tony could tell from the slight tremor in her voice that Beth was about to put this evening in perspective.

Having carefully prepared to become Catholic, now she was about to enter a new phase. She-and Tony for that matter-were going to prepare for marriage.

“Prepare for marriage!” Tony laughed heartily. “Don’t our twenty-six years of living together count for anything?”

“Not as far as the sacrament of matrimony is concerned,” Beth explained.

“Okay, okay …” Tony got control of himself. “What next?”

“We have to make a preparation for marriage. It’s a prayerful time when we talk with people who are trained to guide us through this preparation.”

“Crazy! We could probably help them.”

“We’ve got to do it, Tony. It’s a Church regulation. I’m about to become a Catholic now. And I have to go through with this. And so do you.”

Tony stood up and leaned against the chair. “I know you. I know you like a book I’ve read over and over. There’s more. You’re just coming to the heart of this thing. Go ahead: Drop the other shoe.”

She wet her lips with her tongue. “We’ve got to live apart for six months.”

His mouth dropped open. “You mean they expect us to extend this brother-sister crap for six more months?! Making a total of ten months for me to be wanting you!”

Beth’s face showed that her spirit was wincing. But she went gamely on. “Tony, the way the bishop explained it, the problem is the number of marriages that break up. It used to be that Catholics stayed together. Now as many Catholic marriages end in divorce as those of any other religious denomination.”

Tony’s face was stony.

“The Church is trying to stem the tide,” Beth plowed on. “The Church in the United States grants a phenomenal number of annulments. These steps-the preparation-and the living apart, if the couple is already living together-are intended to help the couple, calmly and sensibly, unemotionally consider what they can expect and bring to their life together.” She looked at him imploringly.

“Don’t”-Tony was almost sputtering-“don’t you see how ridiculous this is? We didn’t have a clown around to give us a paper. That’s all we lacked; other than that, we’ve been married for twenty-six years. Twenty-six years! Now we’re supposed to get instructions from people who would be lucky to stay married as long as we have. And I’m supposed to find a place to flop for six months! Honey, our marriage has been as good as marriage gets-up until this very moment!”

He turned and stood, back to her, shaking his head as if it were leaden.

“Tony … I’m halfway across the bridge.” Beth was pleading abjectly. “Help me get all the way! Please.” Her voice sank. “Please …”

He turned back and stared at her as if seeing her for the first time. “I’ll be out for a while,” he said finally. He wheeled about and left. He didn’t even slam the door.

From that moment on, she knew, though she tried to deny, that what had been a lifetime commitment was no more. Tony would not budge-she knew he wouldn’t. She would have to choose between Tony and her newfound faith.

Tony drove aimlessly, not knowing where to turn. Then, in an inspired moment, he pulled off the road and placed a phone call.

I’m batting a thousand, thought Father Koesler. First-years ago-it had been Vincent Delvecchio asking to go to confession. Then, years later, Lucy had phoned to get some help in conscience formation. Now it was Anthony who wanted to see him. That took care of the last Delvecchio sibling. Something had to be pretty important for a non-churchgoer like Tony to want to talk to a priest.

Koesler answered the door. Tony seemed to be all right. But when the two were seated in the rectory living room, it became apparent that the younger man was deeply shaken.

Koesler listened as Tony told the complete story. Meeting and falling in love with Beth. Their setting up housekeeping. His mother’s death. His loss of faith; his abandoned church attendance. The good years of football, celebrity, an announcing course. And always Beth and their deepening love. Then her need for “something more” and her attraction to Catholicism. And then, in great detail, the instructions given her by his brother. The four-month brother-sister relationship. Now the demand of six more months.

“Those are the essentials, Father. To be honest”-he looked at Koesler steadily-“I don’t think you priests understand what being married is all about. To expect a married man-well, almost any man except a priest-to go ten months without sex is … well … unrealistic, to say the least.”

When Tony had reached the point in his story spelling out the final six-month abstinence and separation, Koesler’s mouth dropped open and stayed open. He now closed his mouth only in order to speak.

“Tony …” Koesler stopped and, as if overcome with the enormity of it all, shook his head. After a deep sigh, he continued. “It’s true about the statistics involving divorce among Catholics and the skyrocketing of annulments granted. The latest Code of Canon Law orders a better, more complete, more realistic, more thorough preparation for marriage. In this archdiocese, if a couple, usually a young couple, are already living together, there is a directive to, if possible, live separately for six months.

“You see,” he explained to Tony’s uncomprehending gaze, “the thinking is that young people become infatuated and passionate. Now there’s nothing wrong with that. But it seems very clear, and experience supports the view, that this is not sufficient to sustain marriage through the long haul. So when difficulties mount, the young couple with nothing more than mere fascination and passion as a foundation can’t hold things together. And so follows divorce, and annulment, and a second marriage that has no better foundation than the first.”

Koesler paused for a moment. When he spoke again, his voice, though still firm, had softened.

“But, Tony, the priest has a lot of discretion in this matter. I can’t think of a single priest I know who would require separation of you and Beth. In fact, I can’t think of a priest who wouldn’t convalidate your marriage with no waiting period.”

“I can,” Tony said dejectedly.

Koesler wanted to be helpful in some practical, way. “You can tell Beth what I’ve told you about the separation requirement. She may be agreeable to talking to me-or just about any prie-no, hold that: If you go to see another priest, better check it out with me first. I can’t think of anyone who would be so rigorous, but I don’t know everybody. Besides, you might find someone who, while agreeing with what I’ve told you, wouldn’t want to confront a bishop.”

Tony assured Koesler he had been a great help. And, as Tony left, Koesler promised to pray for him.

As Tony drove home, he rehearsed what he could say that would move Beth away from his brother and toward sanity. This had better be a moving, convincing argument: His future teetered in the balance.

He let himself in and walked to the dining room. Everything, like a freeze-frame, was exactly as he had left it. Dishes on the table; dessert half eaten; coffee half drunk-and Beth seated just as she had been. Tony was impressed.

He told her he’d been to see Father Koesler and recounted what the priest had said. “… so, will you go with me to talk to Father?”

Beth looked at him wearily. “The bishop warned me this might happen … even to your going to appeal to Father Koesler.” She shook her head. “I can’t go to anyone else, Tony. I’m convinced that the bishop is right. There isn’t any chance that you …?” She left the sentence unfinished.

Could he? He had to give it one more time around his brain. Was it worth it? Moving out for six months? The alternative was to move out for good. Life without Beth. They would be dead to each other without being buried. Was it worth all that?

He looked long and longingly at his love. She was gone already. The real Beth had disappeared into Vince’s peculiar world. Tony had already lost her. All that remained was for him to leave.

“I’ll be here tomorrow to pick up my stuff. I’ll have our lawyer get in touch with you. Anything you want from our life together, you can have. I won’t be back.”

Tony turned and left and never looked back.

As the front door closed, Beth collapsed in wrenching sobs.

Tears flowed freely from Tony’s eyes as he drove away. Vision obscured, he pulled off the road and wept.

The Present

“Wow!” It was Father Tully’s turn to have his mouth drop open. “Delvecchio has his own Church going out at St. Waldo’s. I can understand you may prefer people to live apart while they’re preparing for marriage … .if it is not too inconvenient,” he added with special emphasis. “But I can’t imagine demanding that somebody leave home for six months-only to move back, presumably after those six months.

“And that business of requiring a brother-sister arrangement for the duration of instructions is just plain crazy!”

“Not to Vincent. These policies of his are neither broadcast nor secretive. When a couple shows up at St. Waldo’s to arrange for a wedding, they’re screened by one of the other priests. If it’s not a ‘problem’ wedding-if it’s a straight Catholic marriage with no complications-the associate priest handles it.

“But if there’s a hook, like cohabitation, Delvecchio takes it. If they refuse to live apart, they may get married somewhere else-but not at St. Waldo’s.

“And,” Koesler added, “since it’s Vinnie’s law, he can-and occasionally does-dispense with it.”

Tully’s brow raised in wonderment. “But not for his own brother?”

“Not for his own brother!”

“But why not?”

“I have no idea …” Koesler began to pace. “You know, Zack, in the course of giving you at least a partial biography of Vincent Delvecchio, I have begun to see him in a different light. Something’s knocking at my brain … it’s like a badly formed mist that’s trying to clear up so I can perceive Vincent with a clarity I didn’t have before.”

“What about Martha?” Tully asked, “the last peg in this story?”

Koesler stopped pacing. “Martha …” He shook his head. “Bullheadedness I think, on both their parts. Delvecchio got it into his mind that his aunt caused his mother’s cancer by shunning her. And the cancer became fatal when Martha refused reconciliation. Martha, for her part, divorced herself from a Catholic Church that she felt had caused her husband’s sulci-uh, death.” Father Walsh’s long-ago doubts again crept in. Koesler shook his head as if to rid his mind of cobwebs.

“Later, Martha married again,” he continued. “There were no ‘surprises’ in this wedding. Depending on who was judging it, Martha was either a widow, or a woman who hadn’t had a valid marriage. The man she was marrying was a Catholic and a widower, who, like Martha, was free to marry. But due to Martha’s private war with Catholicism, they married before a judge. They moved away and I lost touch with them. I wouldn’t be surprised if they had died by now.

“In any case,” he concluded, “I don’t know anything more about them.” He shrugged. “Not a very happy tale, is it?”

“No. And Vince Delvecchio seems to be at the heart of each event in this tragedy.”

“Yeah.”

The doorbell couldn’t be heard in the basement. So the two priests were startled when Mary O’Connor appeared at the door of the meeting room. “Fathers, Bishop Delvecchio is here.”

The two men looked at each other. “Well, Zack,” Koesler said, “let’s go fight the dragon.”

“Easy for you to say,” Tully replied. “You know,” he said, after a moment, “I’m actually trembling.”

They climbed the stairs and made their way to the living room, where the bishop awaited.

Bishop Delvecchio was not seated. Instead, he stood in approximately the center of the room.

He was thin to the point of gauntness, with a fragility that brought, to mind Pope Pius XII, though Delvecchio was much taller than the late Pontiff. His black suit seemed of modest material, but the creases could cut paper. A small patch of episcopal red was visible in front, where the clerical collar met the clerical vest. Stretched across his chest was the silver chain of his pectoral cross. His shoes were shiny enough to credit that black patent leather really could reflect up. Neither nature, age, nor use had contributed laugh lines around his mouth or eyes.

The bishop held a large manila envelope. Presumably it contained the papers that would make Father Koesler a Senior Priest.

Suddenly, Koesler’s eyes widened, as if the figurative bulb of discovery had lit above his head. “Look, pardon me,” he said without preamble to the bishop. “I’ve got to make a couple of phone calls. I won’t be long. Zack will entertain you till I get back.”

Father Tully, looking as dumbstruck as if he’d been poleaxed, almost glared at Koesler. “You wouldn’t do this to me!” he muttered through clenched teeth. But Koesler was already headed for the door.

As he started down the hall, he heard Tully offering Delvecchio a drink. The bishop declined.

Koesler had no time to commiserate with Tully. He had to make some calls. He prayed he Would be able to reach those who were on his mental list. If so, and if the responses were what he expected, this matter might well be wrapped up this very night.