Goldbaum grinned. “I mean, it must be something to have a medical doctor in the family-a close relative, I mean.”
“There are perks.” Delvecchio hadn’t the slightest idea where this conversation was going.
“I mean, what do you do if you get sick? Does your sister take care of you?”
Delvecchio shrugged. “I guess I haven’t been sick … at least not since she finished her internship. I suppose she’d step in: What are sisters for?”
“What if you-or your brother, for that matter-had something that was out of her field. She’s in ER, isn’t she?”
“Uh-huh.”
“Well, s’posin’ you needed something that called for a specialist … say, a bypass operation: What then?”
“Hmmm. I suppose I’d ask her whom she’d have operate on her. One thing about doctors: They get to know one another, and each other’s strengths and weaknesses.”
Goldbaum chewed on that for a while.
Finally, having finished the main course, Delvecchio leaned back, smiled, and said, “Merl, I’m very proud of Lucy. She’s not only a physician, she’s terrific in her field. I’ve got a feeling that everything she touches will be gold. If I got sick or was carried into the Emergency Room, Lucy would be there for me.
“That pretty well takes care of Dr. Lucy Delvecchio.
“Now, Merl, you may think that I pay no mind to the fact that every time we meet for lunch or whatever, you always have something ‘Catholic’ that you need or want explained …” Delvecchio glanced at his watch. “Both of us are going to have to get back to work soon. What, I pray thee, is the problem area?”
Goldbaum did not meet Delvecchio’s gaze. He carefully compressed his napkin and laid it beside his plate. “Diaphragms, condoms, contraceptives.”
Delvecchio was taken aback. “Well, that’s sort of off-the-beaten-path from where you began. So, what about them?”
“Your Church is against their use … right?”
“Yes.”
“No exceptions?”
Delvecchio tilted his head. “You mean, could Father Koesler find an exception? Probably. Well …” He almost smiled. “Maybe.”
“But the straight word: No exceptions?”
“None.”
“Wasn’t there an attempt to change the rule sometime back?”
Delvecchio’s eyes narrowed. “You mean the commission that Pope Paul VI appointed to study the matter?”
Goldbaum nodded.
“You got that from Bob before you set up this lunch.”
Again Goldbaum nodded.
The monsignor shifted in his seat. “It’s true Pope Paul set up the commission and it did recommend some changes in the law. But the Pope said, ‘No,’ and wrote an encyclical on it-Humanae Vitae. And that was the end of that. We have an expression: Roma locuta, causa finita.”
“Yeah, I know that one: ‘Rome has spoken, the matter is closed.’”
“So?” Delvecchio spread his hands wide. “What is there to say when the matter is closed?”
The waiter appeared. They would have coffee, regular.
“See, Monsignor, I tend to look at things from a PR point of view. And that decision was very poor PR, if you’ll pardon my saying so.”
Delvecchio obviously was not amused. He did not take Goldbaum’s remark personally. Long ago, the monsignor had concluded Goldbaum was not “convertible.” Nevertheless, Delvecchio didn’t enjoy having Church teaching questioned … no matter by whom.
“Well, Merl, the Catholic Church is not in the public relations business. Nor is the Church a democracy. In another-secular-society, you might expect an organization to follow the directives of a commission that the organization itself created. Not all the time, but most of the time. Now, the Vatican can consult with whomever it wishes. But the last word is still the Pope’s-”
“Even when poll after poll shows that the majority of Catholics in effect have rejected the Pope’s stand on this? Even when studies show there’s practically no difference between the percentages of Catholics and non-Catholics practicing contraception?”
“Merl, you’re not listening. It makes no difference. Roma locuta, causa finita. Finita.” Delvecchio leaned back again. “Now, maybe you’ll tell me why we’re talking about this”-he glanced at his watch-”interminably.”
The waiter brought coffee and the bill. As usual, Goldbaum picked up the check. He waited till the waiter left. Then he said, “Monsignor, there’s this guy in our office who has eight kids-”
“That’s a good-size family for these times. Let me guess: He’s Catholic.”
“Right!” Goldbaum nodded decisively. “It’s been a sort of joke in the office. At first, the guy went along with the ribbing. But lately it’s seemed to reach him.
“Well, to make a long story short, a couple of weeks ago, he went in for a vasectomy. It was like a last resort for him. His wife got tired of being the one who tried to prevent conception … and failing! So, he did it.
“Now, that doesn’t square with the Church, does it?”
“No. He’d have to be sorry he had that done. And he’d have to go to confession to have that serious sin-the sin of the mutilation of a sex organ-forgiven. But what’s that got to do with me? Do you want me to talk with him?”
“No.”
“Then …?”
“The guy’s wife has a favorite doctor. Even though this doctor does not have a private practice, his wife still goes to this doctor in a family clinic. The wife pushed her husband to go to this doctor for the vasectomy. And he did.”
Delvecchio was beginning to have an inkling. “And this doctor is …?”
“Lucy Delvecchio.”
“Oh!” The monsignor was afraid his fish luncheon would reappear.
“Like I said before, Monsignor, I tend to look at things from a PR standpoint. It’s not going to look good PR-wise that the sister of a monsignor performs vasectomies.”
Delvecchio did not reply.
“But there’s something more, Monsignor. Last month, the U.S. Supreme Court did away with state laws restricting abortions during the first six months of pregnancy.”
“I know that.”
Goldbaum leaned across the table and spoke as softly as possible while still able to be heard over the crowd’s noise. “Well, this clinic that I mentioned earlier-its main business is pregnancy counseling.”
“You mean …”
“Your sister handles abortions, although she restricts her practice to the first three months of pregnancy.”
Goldbaum was not sure Delvecchio was still listening. The monsignor’s face was ashen and his eyes appeared to have glazed over.
“Listen, Monsignor, I’m not telling you this for spite or like gossip, or to hurt you. First, I wanted to make sure that these things … procedures … contraception, vasectomy, were still against your Church’s teaching. I knew abortion was. You just confirmed what I suspected. This guy in my office, once he dropped the name of the doctor, I knew you were in a lot of trouble.”
“I? In trouble?”
“As the saying goes, in ‘deep do-do’ … from a PR standpoint. I would guess-and, believe me, this is an educated guess-that no one in the media is aware that you have a sister who counsels contraception and performs abortions. If any reporter was on to this, you wouldn’t be sitting here hearing it from me. We’d be reading it in the papers and watching it on TV and hearing it on radio.”
“You think so?” For Delvecchio, this was a learning situation. Goldbaum had caught his attention.
“Believe me,” Goldbaum said, “these clinics are no longer news by themselves. They just sit there doing their jobs. Even pickets are no longer news. But if a pro-lifer stinks the place up, or if they dynamite it, or shoot a doctor … or”-his meaningful gaze almost impaled Delvecchio-“if the sister of a Catholic priest-a monsignor-is performing abortions, believe me, that is big news.”
Although it was obvious that Delvecchio’s mental wheels were turning furiously, when he finally spoke, it was with aplomb. “Well, I’m grateful to you, Merl. Of course I’ll talk with my sister about this. It’s intolerable!” he concluded firmly.