No Greater Love Read Online Free PDF Page A

explained.
    â€œYou too? Old age isn’t for sissies.”
    Koesler looked down at the bishop in irritation. “I know that used to be a joke, but it’s losing its humor as the years go on.”
    â€œTell me about it.” McNiff shook his head. “That aneurysm could call my number any moment.”
    â€œWhich,” said Koesler as he resumed his seat, “brings us back to the beginning: Why did they—”
    McNiff convulsively grabbed for a Kleenex, missed it, and sneezed in Koesler’s general direction.
    Koesler dug out a handkerchief and mopped his face. He pushed his chair back a few inches.
    â€œSorry,” McNiff apologized.
    â€œWhy don’t you pull out a few sheets so you’re ready for the next one?”
    McNiff did just that. “See,” he said, “you’re helping already.”
    â€œLittle Pat, cut to the chase: Why are you a bishop, and why are you here—and what I can do to help … that is, before your sneezes challenge the defenses of my immune system?”
    â€œOkay, okay.” McNiff shifted in his chair in an unsuccessful attempt to get comfortable. “So you’re not very familiar with the current situation with St. Joseph’s and our present seminarians.”
    Koesler shook his head.
    â€œBut what we’ve got here,” McNiff explained, “is a kind of counterrevolution—or reformation, depending on your mind-set.
    â€œWhere we are in history is in a backlash of the liberal-conservative struggle. In the sixties and seventies, as a result of the Council, this archdiocese went wildly liberal—”
    Koesler smiled. “You sure this isn’t your conservative perception of how things were?”
    But McNiff was deadly serious. “I’m positive this is the way it was.
    â€œAnyway, we know what happened when a significant number of priests, seminarians, and laity caught the spirit of the Council—or what they thought was the spirit—and ran with it. All the while the institutional Church was digging in its heels.
    â€œIt wasn’t too long ago that liberal thought controlled this seminary—”
    â€œAnd now?”
    â€œNow …” McNiff looked glum. “Now it’s just turned around. There are three—count them: three—outspoken liberal faculty members. It’s possible there are one or two more, but if so, they’re still in the closet.”
    â€œHow about the seminarians?”
    â€œOn the surface, as far as the seminarians are concerned, they’re all right wing—and pretty far out at that. By the way, we refer to the seminarians here as M.Divs.”
    â€œM.Divs?”
    â€œMaster of Divinity. That’s the academic degree they need to be ordained.”
    Koesler scratched his head. “What about the others—the ones who aren’t studying for the priesthood?”
    â€œThey can earn any other degree we offer.”
    â€œBut … not the Master of Divinity?”
    â€œThe M.Div is reserved for seminarians exclusively.”
    â€œI hesitate to ask the logical question, because I’m afraid I know the answer. But anyway: What if one of the nonseminarians wants to take one of the M.Div courses?”
    â€œImpossible. All M.Div courses are reserved for seminarians.”
    â€œI assume,” Koesler said, “that one of the M.Div courses would be Homiletics.”
    â€œUh-huh.”
    â€œAnd all of your students want a position of some sort in a parish—and all of them want at least instruction in preaching … right?”
    â€œUh-huh.”
    â€œSo such a student isn’t taught how to preach.”
    â€œYou’ve got to remember, Bob: Only a deacon or a priest can preach. There’s no point in teaching someone a skill she will never practice.”
    â€œShe? ”
    McNiff was giving every indication that Koesler’s line of questioning was making him ill at ease.