“When you move back into the Old Testament, killings multiply. And, not infrequently, they are in response to God’s will. It starts with Cain killing Abel. Moses kills an Egyptian. God takes the firstborn of each Egyptian family. God wipes out the entire Egyptian army in the Red Sea. Whole cities are destroyed at God’s command. And-in perhaps the most touching instance-to test his faith, Abraham is ordered to sacrifice his only son. Then, there is that rather obscure woman in the Book of Maccabees who encourages her sons to die under torture rather than sin. Grace Hunsinger was familiar with all of them. She, indeed, selected the Maccabees woman’s story as one of the readings at her son’s funeral. So she was no stranger to the phenomenon of God’s occasional use of, in effect, a divine death sentence.
“Once she felt compelled to carry out the divine death sentence that had been passed on her son, he gave her no alternative. If we could compare his state of sin to a state of insanity, we would say he had no lucid moments. And she knew it. As you just stated, Inspector, she knew about the intimate feminine apparel, she knew about the X-rated TV cassettes. She knew about her son’s whole dissolute life. She had no choice but to go forward with her plan and, as far as her son’s soul was concerned, hope for the best.”
“But,” Koznicki said, “was there nothing the poor woman could do? Could she not have urged him to go to confession as the end neared?”
“On the contrary, Inspector, she would not have added sacrilege to her son’s long list of sins. She would have been aware from her many years of parochial training that confession without a determination to change one’s life-she would have known it as a ‘purpose of amendment’-is not only useless but a sacrilege. Of what purpose would it be for her son to go to confession of a Saturday afternoon when he had no intention of going to Mass of a Sunday morning, no intention of ceasing his womanizing, no intention to stop manipulating others, no intention of doing anything at all about changing his life for-what she would consider-the better.”
Upon reflection, Koznicki had to agree. He had had at least as much parochial training as had Mrs. Hunsinger, if not more. “Of course,” he said, “but a moment ago, Father, you said something about Mrs. Hunsinger’s hoping for the best?”
Koesler smiled and spread his hands on the tabletop. “Who knows? After death, who knows the immense power of God’s forgiveness? We believe that after death there is a judgment. And, aided by Scripture and tradition, we think we know the rules under which we will be judged. But we don’t really know how much God can and will forgive, nor how much He will not. All prayers after death, no matter how holy or sinful the deceased’s life, presume nothing. They only ask mercy.
“Mrs. Hunsinger and I spent quite a bit of time consoling each other. I reminded her of God’s infinite mercy as well as the fact that, for whatever reason, her son had freely joined a Bible study group. While she reminded me that at least he was good to her. And I would agree that filial devotion is very definitely a virtue.”
“To know all is to forgive all?”
“Maybe. Or maybe to know all is to understand all.”
Drinks finished, they made ready to leave.
“For the living, life goes on,” Koznicki said, then added, “Oh, by the way, Father, will you be able to come over for dinner on Sunday?”
“Thanks, Inspector, but I’ve got tickets to the Cougars game on Sunday. And parking at the Silverdome makes that an all-day adventure.”
“Well, then, have fun.”
“With Father McNiff along, it’s always fun.”
7
“There’s the two-minute warning, Eddie. The referee is informing both coaches that there’s just two minutes left in the game. I know it’s a cliche, but we’ve got another cliffhanger on our hands. This contest has come down to the final two minutes.”
“It sure has, Lou. And with the score New York 35, the Cougars 30, we’ll be right back after these messages.”
“Whattya think, this is a real squeaker, eh?” Father Koesler almost shouted into his companion’s ear.
“I think the operative word is cliffhanger,” said Father McNiff. “Besides, I can’t think very clearly. I’m trying to keep my nose from bleeding.”
Koesler grimaced. “Patrick, that’s about all I can take of your references to how far above ground level we are. It started with your asking the usher if he issued parachutes and it has come down to nosebleeds. I’m takin’ it all too much to heart.”
“Well, next time invest some money. I mean, I’m paying for my ticket and I don’t mind paying a little bit more to get a decent seat. After all, Robert, we only go ’round once. Why not live now and then with a little better seat for a football game?”
“Hey, any time you want to be ticketbroker, be my guest. These were about the only seats available. The really good seats are inherited from one generation to the next. Or they are the final item in a divorce settlement.”
“Speaking of divorces, what did I read in the paper about the owners of this team getting a divorce?”
Koesler nodded. “If you can believe the gossip columns, that seems to be true. Funny, I had gotten the impression that the Galloways might reconcile. At least I gathered that from Jay Galloway. Apparently, Mrs. G. was having nothing to do with it; if you want to believe the rumors, it’s Splitsville.”
“Yeah, the columnist in the News claims it’s going to be a newsy and messy divorce.”
“Let those who like to read that stuff read it. As for me, reading about a nasty divorce is about as much fun as watching an autopsy up close and in living color.” Koesler had to nearly shout the last words, for the timeout was over, and the two teams were gathering forces to do battle again. The spectator noise rose again.
“Well, what do you think, Lou? The Cougars have the ball on their own 20, first and ten, two minutes to go, and down by five. A field goal isn’t going to make it. They’ve got to go for a touchdown. Think they can do it?”
“Dunno. The next two minutes will tell the tale. The Cougars break their huddle. They line up in a spread formation. It figures Bobby Cobb is going to have every eligible receiver going out for a pass. New York has its nickel defense in-an extra defensive back. There’s the snap. Cobb fades. It’s a draw! It’s a draw play! He sent the fullback right up the middle. He’s got ten. . twenty. . twenty-five yards before they can stop him. It’s a first down and the Cougars take a timeout. It’ll be first and ten at the Cougars’ 45-yard line. How about that, Eddie?”
“Right you are, Lou. The Cougars really fooled New York with that draw. And it was an audible. Bobby Cobb called that one at the line of scrimmage. He saw New York falling back for the deep pass and he set ’em up. We’ll be right back after these messages.”
McNiff thought twice about picking up his conversation with Koesler with all the pandemonium in the stadium. But he decided to give it another try. “You know, I don’t want to drive this ticket thing into the ground, but you do know the owner.”
“Galloway?” Koesler shouted back. “Just barely, and now, not on the best of terms.”
“Won’t there be any more meetings of the God Squad?” McNiff still harbored hopes of being included.
Koesler laughed. “Boy, I don’t think so. That’s dead as a doornail. I don’t know that they’ll even be speaking to each other. Did you see in the paper where Dave Whitman is going back to Minneapolis and Multifoods? Says they made him an offer he couldn’t refuse. And maybe that’s so. But I think he would have gone anywhere to get away from Jay Galloway.”
“Pretty soon it’s going to be Galloway against the world. “
“That’s the way it started,” Koesler rejoined.