“This is the Gospel of the Lord.”
A few scattered voices: “Praise to you, Lord Jesus Christ.”
It was time for the homily.
Father Forbes began in time-honored fashion. He offered the condolences of everyone he could think of to everyone he could think of.
Koesler, one of those in whose name sympathy had been offered, scanned the group being singled out for condolences.
“Mrs. Grace Hunsinger,” began Forbes. She sat ramrod straight, looking neither right nor left; her face was covered by a black veil. You can’t hardly find that kind of mourning any more, thought Koesler.
“Mrs. Hunsinger’s many brothers and sisters, uncles and aunts of the deceased,” Father Forbes intoned. They looked like hardy stock, judged Koesler. They’re probably still wondering why such a sturdy, healthy young relative lies dead.
Forbes continued his enumeration. “Mrs. Quinn, long-time companion and friend of Mrs. Hunsinger. .”At mention of her name, Mrs. Quinn’s head bobbed upright. She had nearly fallen asleep. Koesler hoped, rather absently, that she would not have one of her habitual dreams and wake up shouting “bingo” in the middle of the Mass.
Koesler would not fall asleep. He scarcely ever did during the homilies of others. But neither did he pay attention. He scarcely ever did that either. He would mentally compose his own homily. He almost always did, amid many digressions and distractions.
Yes, homilies had changed since Vatican II, even for a funeral or, more currently, the Mass of Resurrection. Before the Council, eulogies containing personal praise of the deceased were discouraged. One was expected to preach on such eschatological themes as death, judgment, heaven, hell, purgatory; the possibility of the Church Militant (those yet alive) helping the Church Suffering (those in purgatory) by prayer. Now, whenever the priest knew the deceased, a eulogy, mixed with a bit of eschatology, was the order of the day.
There was a distinction too, at least in Koesler’s mind, between pre- and post-Vatican II preaching. The preaching common during his early priestly years he would have called sermons. These had had little if anything to do with the Scripture readings of the Mass. If it was decided that now was the time to inveigh against the evils of steady dating or French kissing, then that was what the sermon was about.
After the Council, more and more priests were led to link their preaching to the subject of the Scripture readings of the Mass. It was a style Koesler liked. When there were two readings (or, more commonly, on Sundays or special occasions such as funerals or weddings, three), the initial trick was to find some connection between the readings and develop that as the homiletic theme.
Thus, as Father Forbes began his homily, Father Koesler mentally began his.
The three readings of this Mass put Koesler in mind of a valiant mother, faced with the sudden death of her sons, who comforts herself, first with St. Paul’s sublime insistence on the fact of Christ’s Resurrection and ours through Him. And her second consolation comes from the evenhandedness of God’s mercy. Anyone who wishes to do the will of the Father is mother, brother, or sister to Christ.
Of course, putting Henry Hunsinger in the company of those who wanted to do God’s will was stretching things a bit. But that was the very point of the Christian understanding of death and judgment: that God does not judge by human standards. Koesler would never forget the simple words he had seen stenciled on the wall of Detroit’s Carmelite convent: “When you die you will be judged by Love.”
This was the theme he would have developed had he been delivering the homily this morning. It was the theme of the homily he now preached to himself. He did not even wonder what Father Forbes had preached.
After the homily, the Mass of Resurrection proceeded without incident. Occasionally, Koesler looked about the crowded church. He had seldom seen so many extremely large men in church at the same time. The Cougars were in attendance to a man. He was reminded of the comment made by President John Kennedy when awarding a medal to one of the astronauts at a White House ceremony. He said, in effect, that one could tell the difference between the astronauts and the politicians assembled for the ceremony; the astronauts were the tan and healthy ones.
Similarly, one could distinguish the football players from the ordinary humans; the players were the ones with no necks, just huge shoulders sloping upward into large heads.
Father Forbes reached that part of the Mass called the consecration. According to Catholic faith, when the priest repeated the words of Jesus at the Last Supper, the bread and wine again were changed into the reality of Christ come again as food for the soul. As Forbes pronounced the words of consecration, so did Koesler in a whisper. Thus, Koesler managed to foil the capricious decision of the Chancery forbidding concelebration at this Mass. It was such an absurd, childish dictum that he felt rather good about violating it.
From his vantage in the sanctuary, somewhat elevated above the floor of the body of the church, Father Koesler could easily see the people in the pews. As Mass proceeded toward communion, he tried to pick out the suspects.
You couldn’t miss Kit Hoffer and Bobby Cobb. Not only were they large; they were both pallbearers and thus in the front row. Hoffer was kneeling; Cobb was seated. Another distinguishing point: non-Catholics seldom knelt in church. Kneeling, for most of them, was foreign to their worship experience. So, while Catholics knelt, non-Catholics sat.
Jack Brown was in the second row, just behind the pallbearers. He seemed ill at ease. Koesler wondered why. Did he find the Catholic ceremony awkward, or was something else troubling him?
The Galloways were seated in about the fourth or fifth row, Koesler could not quite tell which. Jay Galloway seemed. . what? Self-satisfied?
Marj Galloway was not satisfied. That was obvious and so was her reason for being upset. Koesler was certain that if she could have carried it off without attracting too much notice, she would not be here. And if she could have helped it, she would not be sitting next to a man she no longer loved. Had Koesler been present at the epilogue to last night’s meeting, he would have understood just how much in fact she despised her husband.
Koesler could not locate Dave Whitman, though undoubtedly he was somewhere in the congregation. Koesler wondered if it would be possible for Whitman and Galloway to continue to work together after the words they had exchanged last night.
The congregation stood for the Lord’s Prayer. Non-Catholics generally have no objections to standing. Then most everyone knelt again as communion time arrived.
Koesler assisted Forbes in distributing communion. Thus he was nearby when Grace Hunsinger received communion from Father Forbes. And thus Koesler was startled when, having received communion, she began to sob and almost collapsed. Instinctively, he moved as if to assist her. But her relatives were quick to come to her aid and support her.
The weeping of this brokenhearted mother finally supplied the somber, bleak character this funeral, until now, had lacked. Hardly anyone in this church lamented Hunsinger’s death. They were surprised, yes, but hardly heartbroken. So, till now, it had been a rather bland occasion at which a number of people were expected to be in attendance and to which many others were drawn by curiosity.
Now, hearing the heart-rending sobs of Grace Hunsinger, everyone was deeply affected. Who could remain unmoved in the presence of a grieving mother?
Koesler could sense, almost tangibly feel, a new awareness of death and grief in the congregation. Somewhere in this church, he was now certain, was the murderer of Hank Hunsinger. Could he or she not be affected by this mother’s desolate tears? Would this not alter the status quo? Would the murderer’s defenses not be lowered? Alight the guilty person not actually be moved to confess?
Although he had not intended to do so, Koesler at that moment resolved to return to the Hunsinger home after accompanying the casket to the cemetery.