“Ah, yes …” Tully smiled. “You gotta watch those converts like Newman. They have subtle ways of correcting things.
“But,” he said, “getting back to Frank and Martha: I must say I’m surprised that the tribunal would not accept them into full participation even if they were willing to continue living as brother and sister. That would seem to settle the matter for Church law-even if it constituted a nightmare for the couple.”
Koesler sighed. “It’s weird. I’ve even known of a tribunal priest who ordered a couple’s parish priest to make sure the two were living up to their promise of a brother-sister relationship.”
Tully snorted. “Sort of gives a new meaning to ‘peeping Tom.’
“I take it,” he added, “from the way you told the story, you think these two did keep their promise for the entire two and a half years their case was pending.”
“No question,” Koesler responded firmly. “Their word was their honor. I believe they lived a monastic life. I believe they did without things they needed so they could pay court costs.
“But”-Koesler shook his head-“even after all these years, I have never gotten over Vinnie’s reaction to his uncle’s death. Of course, he’d already been told by the seminary rector what had happened …”
“And the rector told Delvecchio in just about the manner you anticipated he would?”
Koesler nodded. “It wasn’t that the rector didn’t have emotions, or that he didn’t express them. He could-and did-laugh when something actually funny happened. He could be depressed. And, God knows, he could get angry. He had a special knack when he announced some sort of atrocity one of the students had perpetrated. There he was, sitting up there on a podium in front of us. And he would whip off his glasses and throw them spinning on the desk. The knack was that the glasses would stop moving and spinning just at the edge of the desk. One tossing error and the glasses would be broken on the floor.” He chuckled. “That’s brinkmanship.”
“Marvelous. Do you remember any of the so-called atrocities?”
“One that comes to mind,” Koesler responded instantly, “was a white pillowcase that had been turned into a pinto-like black and white. Seems one of our number had been using it to polish his black shoes. That sent the old man into paroxysms.
“Any number of things could get him started. But one thing you can say for him: He never made up any abuses out of whole cloth; ours were actual atrocities.
“He could be very gentle one-on-one. But there was no doubt he was looking to turn out men. Men who could take any blow, face any adversity and forge ahead. I was sure that’s what he’d be looking for when he told Vince about his uncle.
“To be very honest, I didn’t think Vinnie would do very well with that test.”
“How so?”
“A close family member-it had to be one hell of a shock. And Vincent was part of this whole procedure … even though all he did was send his aunt and uncle to me. He was a necessary link. I think, honestly, not many could surface from something like that as though nothing had happened.”
“And that’s how Delvecchio seemed to you?”
“Uh-huh. It was even a bit spooky now that I picture it. I was wishing I had brought some Kleenex or a couple of extra handkerchiefs. I expected Vince to be in a state of shock-come to think of it, maybe he was … maybe that’s why he seemed so cool and untouched: He must’ve been in shock!”
“Or,” Tully offered, “had one hell of a good defense mechanism.”
“Huh?”
“I’m borrowing from a little psych that I took at the University of Dallas. Delvecchio may have been in denial. Maybe the news was so devastating to him that the only way he could deal with it was denial-one of the most basic defense mechanisms.”
“You may have a point there, Zack. But he seemed aware of what had happened. We even talked about the funeral. I remember he was amazed that I would consider conducting a Catholic funeral for Frank.”
“But there are lots of modes of denial.” Tully looked thoughtful. “Maybe not the denial of reality-that’s really pretty infantile. But he could deny any responsibility for the matter. And from what you’ve said, Delvecchio wasn’t actually that deeply involved.
“His mother asked him to try and fix an awkward situation. Pressed, and seeking some sort of off-the-cuff solution, he tossed the ball to you.
“True, you were inexperienced. Still, you were fresh from the books … and that’s not so bad: This procedure had to go ‘by the book.’ And, when all’s said and done, he knew you would at least be gracious to them. And in their situation, any reception would be hit-or-miss-depending on which rectory they wandered into. You mentioned that they had already been treated shabbily by-who was it?”
“Keller at Nativity.”
“Ah, yes. I never met the man, but I’ve met his clone any number of times. I’ll bet every diocese and religious order has at least one Keller. Seems like you were expecting one kind of reaction from Delvecchio … and you got another one, Bob.”
“That’s true … but Vinnie’s reaction to his uncle’s suicide was one response. I could think of lots of reasons why he could remain so untouched, so above it all. And I hadn’t even thought of a defense mechanism. You put a new light on that, Zack.
“But what really threw me was his attitude toward the possibility of getting Christian burial for Frank. Forget that I probably couldn’t have pulled it off. It could’ve been a great source of comfort for relatives and friends-”
“You thought,” Tully broke in, “that Delvecchio’s first reaction to Christian burial would be supportive. I agree. And I can’t imagine why it wasn’t.”
“Remember, Zack, we’re dealing with a young man who, only a year or so earlier, had that argument with me over fooling with organ music during a Requiem Mass. Now he’s surprised that anyone could think of Christian burial for a supposed suicide. One would think there’s a hell of a lot more involved in comforting grieving people than in diverting restless kids at a camp Mass.”
Tully tapped the arm of the chair with his index finger. “We’re just guessing, of course. And it’s been-what? — some forty years, so this is hardly Monday-morning quarterbacking. But I guess you could see Delvecchio’s entire reaction as within strict legalistic behavior. Frank Morris-and his wife-had a petition that was turned down by a competent Church court. Roma locuta, causa finita. So, Delvecchio wonders, what’s the problem? You asked for a decision regarding your freedom to marry, and you got one.
“That’s ‘A.’ And ‘B,’ your response to this decision is to kill yourself. Okay, if that’s the way you want it. But any possibility you had of being given a Christian burial is forfeited.”
Koesler nodded slowly. “Quid sit lex? as our Moral prof used to say. But ‘What is the law?’ is so cold and unfeeling.”
“And you couldn’t do it, could you?” Tully regarded his confrere with affection.
Koesler looked off into the distance, ready to admit the truth. “No, I couldn’t. And I didn’t know quite what to do about it. I had paid close attention through four years of study of just about each and every one of the two thousand and four hundred and fourteen laws. The vast majority of my test answers were correct … matter of fact, I don’t think I did better in any subject than I did in Canon Law. But it was mere law on those pages. Whether it was good or harmful law didn’t occur to me-or, for that matter, to any of my classmates … or to any other seminarians of that day.
“And then we were ordained. We gave consolation to the afflicted. We handed out chits for emergency food or shelter. We instructed. We did all sorts of things that made sense. And then we interpreted law. And it no longer was the abstract study of law. These were people who, by and large, were wounded. Their marriages had exploded in their hands. They were raw from revelations in a court of law-”