Read Online The Greatest Evil by William X. Kienzle - Free Book Online
Authors: William X. Kienzle
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name of the Father and of the Son and of the Holy Ghost, Amen …’”
Vincent watched them leave. Then he headed back toward the residence hall. It was time for Sunday Vespers.
As he walked, he pondered.
No two ways about it: If Uncle Frank and Aunt Martha wanted an adjustment in their religious status they would have to consult a priest. The only question was: Which priest?
There might well be priests better qualified than Bob Koesler. Oh, he knew his stuff all right; all he lacked was experience.
That could be both good and bad.
If the incidence of success with this sort of marital problem was poor, Bob wouldn’t know that. So he could be more confident. But if it involved knowing whom to consult for best and quickest results, Koesler would be behind the eight ball.
Then another thought entered Vincent’s head. Lourdes. That repository of astounding miracles. A grotto decorated with crutches and wheelchairs left by the grateful cured.
Yet it was said that the greater miracle was that experienced by those who came and left crippled—crippled but resigned to their fate and filled with inner peace. Another sort of miracle.
It was a good thing that he was headed for the celebration of Vespers, the Church’s evening prayer. This enterprise was going to need a lot of prayer.
7
Rumor had it that an Italian priest fresh in America from his mother country was offering ten Masses a day and accepting a five-dollar stipend for each one.
Once the chancery was apprised of this practice, a chancellor called and told the priest in no uncertain terms that he could not offer ten Masses a day.
His response: “Ma, shu’ I can. I’m a big-a strong guy.”
Father Robert Koesler was a big, strong guy too, and he would have been happy to offer ten Masses a day—sans all those stipends.
Father Koesler had been a priest four months now and he was enjoying every minute of it. In a way, he regretted that his once-a-day Mass (except for Sundays, when, due to the crowds, priests were given permission to offer two Masses) was always scheduled for early morning. Mass was the highlight of his day. He wished he could have all day to anticipate it. He tried to adjust to this minor disappointment.
His days in this first parochial assignment had fallen into a routine. This also pleased the young priest. He loved routine.
On most days, after Mass, he taught in the parochial school. Never mind that he was totally unqualified as a teacher. He was a priest; Father could do anything. Afternoons were usually spent outside the rectory—visiting the sick, or parishioners who, for one reason or another, were homebound. In the evening there were endless instructions for people who wanted to convert to Catholicism. Or he would meet with couples who were making arrangements to be married.
Initially, he had been surprised at the time consumed in clearing the deck for marriage. The simplest procedure—a marriage between two Catholics of independent age, neither previously married—required several visits to fill out all the forms and to be instructed by the priest.
The priest, of course, had never been married. But he was Father: Ex officio, he could do everything.
From his—so far—parochial experience, Koesler had concluded that while it was fairly difficult to enter a Catholic marriage, it was extremely difficult to get out of one.
Canon Law had all the lines—and the questions. Were both parties to this marriage over twenty-one years of age? If not, parental consent was required. Were both Catholic? If not, a dispensation given by the local chancery was required. Were both free to marry, or did either have a previous marriage? If so, the previous marriage had to be annulled. Not infrequently, this process was as easy and successful as jumping the Grand Canyon. Were the parties entering this marriage of their own free will, or were they being coerced by force or fear? If so, the procedure stopped here until the coercion ceased—or, no
Vincent watched them leave. Then he headed back toward the residence hall. It was time for Sunday Vespers.
As he walked, he pondered.
No two ways about it: If Uncle Frank and Aunt Martha wanted an adjustment in their religious status they would have to consult a priest. The only question was: Which priest?
There might well be priests better qualified than Bob Koesler. Oh, he knew his stuff all right; all he lacked was experience.
That could be both good and bad.
If the incidence of success with this sort of marital problem was poor, Bob wouldn’t know that. So he could be more confident. But if it involved knowing whom to consult for best and quickest results, Koesler would be behind the eight ball.
Then another thought entered Vincent’s head. Lourdes. That repository of astounding miracles. A grotto decorated with crutches and wheelchairs left by the grateful cured.
Yet it was said that the greater miracle was that experienced by those who came and left crippled—crippled but resigned to their fate and filled with inner peace. Another sort of miracle.
It was a good thing that he was headed for the celebration of Vespers, the Church’s evening prayer. This enterprise was going to need a lot of prayer.
7
Rumor had it that an Italian priest fresh in America from his mother country was offering ten Masses a day and accepting a five-dollar stipend for each one.
Once the chancery was apprised of this practice, a chancellor called and told the priest in no uncertain terms that he could not offer ten Masses a day.
His response: “Ma, shu’ I can. I’m a big-a strong guy.”
Father Robert Koesler was a big, strong guy too, and he would have been happy to offer ten Masses a day—sans all those stipends.
Father Koesler had been a priest four months now and he was enjoying every minute of it. In a way, he regretted that his once-a-day Mass (except for Sundays, when, due to the crowds, priests were given permission to offer two Masses) was always scheduled for early morning. Mass was the highlight of his day. He wished he could have all day to anticipate it. He tried to adjust to this minor disappointment.
His days in this first parochial assignment had fallen into a routine. This also pleased the young priest. He loved routine.
On most days, after Mass, he taught in the parochial school. Never mind that he was totally unqualified as a teacher. He was a priest; Father could do anything. Afternoons were usually spent outside the rectory—visiting the sick, or parishioners who, for one reason or another, were homebound. In the evening there were endless instructions for people who wanted to convert to Catholicism. Or he would meet with couples who were making arrangements to be married.
Initially, he had been surprised at the time consumed in clearing the deck for marriage. The simplest procedure—a marriage between two Catholics of independent age, neither previously married—required several visits to fill out all the forms and to be instructed by the priest.
The priest, of course, had never been married. But he was Father: Ex officio, he could do everything.
From his—so far—parochial experience, Koesler had concluded that while it was fairly difficult to enter a Catholic marriage, it was extremely difficult to get out of one.
Canon Law had all the lines—and the questions. Were both parties to this marriage over twenty-one years of age? If not, parental consent was required. Were both Catholic? If not, a dispensation given by the local chancery was required. Were both free to marry, or did either have a previous marriage? If so, the previous marriage had to be annulled. Not infrequently, this process was as easy and successful as jumping the Grand Canyon. Were the parties entering this marriage of their own free will, or were they being coerced by force or fear? If so, the procedure stopped here until the coercion ceased—or, no
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