“Later, when that monster of a sister arrived and caused all that commotion, he returned to life! I’ve always believed in calling a spade a spade: That was a miracle.”
There was no possible doubt that Reichert believed totally in the opinion he had just pronounced.
For several long moments there was no movement or sound beyond that of an occasional car horn in the nearly empty streets of downtown Detroit.
Boyle swiveled toward Koesler.
“I don’t know what to call it,” Koesler admitted. “If he had been embalmed …” He shrugged. “… I suppose in that case one would be tempted-considerably tempted-to call it a miracle. But, on the other hand, he was pronounced dead. And, as Father Reichert said, he certainly looked dead.”
Boyle began to fidget with the gold chain that crossed his chest and held his pectoral cross. “This is not going to pass quickly,” the Cardinal observed. “The media-not to mention a goodly number of the faithful-will want direction and an answer to this question. Was it or was it not a miracle? The question will be asked here in Detroit, of course. But, additionally, nationally and internationally. And definitely at the level of the Holy See.
“The prime question on my mind concerns the subject of all this attention. I have met Dr. Green at a few functions. But I know little or nothing about the man. Do either of you …?”
“I’ve seen his picture in the paper occasionally,” Reichert said.
“Same here,” Koesler said. “I did have a chance to talk with several of his relatives and acquaintances last evening. Concisely, he does not strike me as the type who would be the recipient of a miracle. He appeared not to be a ‘godly’ man. Quite the opposite. The media probably know more about the dark side of Dr. Green than we do.”
“That makes no difference.” Reichert almost rose from his chair. “The miraculous is given as a gratia gratis data.”
Boyle and Koesler hoped Reichert would not translate. He didn’t. He paraphrased. “The miraculous is caused by God not so much as a reward for the subject as it is to strengthen our faith. Green does not have to be a saint. This is God’s way of showing His presence and His power. And it happened last night. I saw it! Praise God!”
“Father Reichert”-Boyle’s tone was abrupt and compelling, unusual for him-“that is the very last thing we want to say at this stage of our investigation.”
“Investigation!” To Reichert this hinted at doubt. One investigates what one is unsure, uncertain of. And he had no lack of sureness or certainty in the matter of the Green miracle.
“Yes, investigation,” Boyle insisted. “Today I will appoint a committee of three priests who will begin an official investigation. The existence of this committee will relieve you, Father Koesler, to attend to your parochial work without suffering a major distraction. You will be able to refer all questions to the committee.
“And you, Father Reichert, you will make no further comments on this case.” When being severe, Cardinal Boyle’s heavy eyebrows tended to almost join above the bridge of his nose. They did so now.
“But, Your Eminence-” Reichert interjected.
“I want there to be no question, Father,” Boyle said. “It would be entirely counterproductive to have an officially designated body studying and investigating the nature of last evening’s extraordinary happening, while at the same time we proclaim it a miracle. Surely you can understand this. What is the point of investigating something to which we already know the answer.”
“But, Your Eminence, I was there. I saw!”
“Father Reichert, before we can begin to term this a truly miraculous event, we must rule out any other possible explanation. That will be the purpose of this investigation.” Boyle’s eyebrows still touched. “Frankly, at this stage, Father, whether you understand or agree with this approach is not germane. This is the manner in which this matter will be handled. You will conform to it.”
Reichert slumped slightly. “Very well, Eminence. But,” he added, “one final question: I have made it very clear to all who asked that I believe this is a miracle. When the people learn that there will be a committee, they will also be told that there will be no information until the investigation is concluded-or nearly concluded. Won’t they come to me for confirmation of the miracle? I have already said I believe it. Why would I hold back now?”
This time it was Koesler who responded. “You could tell them the truth, Dan. When you witnessed the drama of last night you were highly emotionally affected. And that’s the truth: It was an unforgettable moment. But, now, on reflection, you will await the ruling of the committee. Wouldn’t that do it?”
Reichert was not happy to have the suggestion come from Koesler. “I don’t think I need to take directions from a priest whose bad judgment set the stage for all this.” He fixed his gaze on Cardinal Boyle. “I will follow the advice of my religious superior.”
With an expression of Hey-fellas-please-let’s-try-to-get-along-like-grown-ups, Boyle said, “Any direction I would give would essentially be the same as that of Father Koesler.
“Now, Father Reichert, during the course of this investigation I do not want to see your name mentioned in connection-in any way-with the word miracle or any of its derivatives … is that clear?”
“Yes, Eminence.”
One of the characteristics of the elderly clergy was their sense of obedience to legitimate authority. Today, Boyle was the beneficiary of Reichert’s obedience.
Besides, it was not a complete washout. Reichert had won rounds one and two when the Cardinal agreed with him twice! First, that Koesler should have referred the wake decision to the Cardinal, even though he was airborne. And second, that, having been informed of the circumstances, Boyle would have refused permission for the wake.
“In that case, Father,” Boyle addressed Reichert, “you may leave. I want to speak further with Father Koesler.”
Reichert, bowing and almost backing out of the Cardinal’s office, clutched to his heart his two-to-one victory.
As the door closed behind Reichert, the solemnity and formality seemed to dissolve. “Well, Father,” Boyle said, with the hint of a smile, “have you ever shepherded a miracle before?”
“Not that I can recall, Eminence. Definitely nothing like this.” Koesler could feel the tension leaving him. “But I’m familiar with the trail that such an investigation usually takes. Somebody reports a vision-usually of Jesus or Mary or one of the more popular saints. The diocese where it happens warns people not to jump on the bandwagon too early. Plenty of ‘cautions’ issued. Finally, the diocese states that there is no compelling proof of the miracle. Gradually, the event begins to disappear from any sort of notice. And then, just a small group of die-hard promoters hangs on.”
Boyle nodded.
“But this one is a little different,” Koesler said. “This isn’t a vision on the side of a barn or a tabernacle veil or a tortilla. This is someone returned to life after death. I guess we’re dealing with a major league claim here.”
“No matter what we say officially,” Boyle said, “you are going to be the principal figure in this affair. The event took place in your parish church. If you had not given permission, would this have happened? The man had been pronounced legally dead. His body was released for burial; otherwise the funeral home would not have processed the body. Was the man dead? Is he really alive?”
Koesler looked shocked. “Is he alive?! His eyes popped open. He made sounds.”
“Since this event last night, there has been no statement from a physician or a family member regarding his condition. Could the phenomenon have some rational explanation? Air remaining in his body and escaping? I seem to recall that the man’s sister caused quite a commotion. Might that have had something to do with the event? Cause the release of trapped breath? There are many questions that as yet have no answer.”