Man Who Loved God
Page 28
Still awash with guilt over his recent selfish reaction, Koesler volunteered to carry the camper to shore. For either of the two tall counselors, it was only a short walk. Delvecchio nodded and Koesler carried out the uneventful rescue.
The Present
Father Zachary Tully chuckled. “So that’s the way you got to meet one of Detroit’s auxiliary bishops … over a drowning kid?”
“You mean,” Father Robert Koesler said, “something like, ‘I’ll carry this kid to shore and … uh, by the way: Just who are you?’ No, nothing like that … although if Vince Delvecchio hadn’t been a counselor at Ozanam, I doubt that I would have gotten to know him well—or at all.”
“You were in the seminary together?”
“Yes, of course. But Vince was five years behind me. Which meant that I was in college when he was in high school. When he was in college I was in Theology. And by the time he got to Theology, I was ordained a priest. You know how that goes, Zack: In the seminary in the good old days you got to know who the guys ahead of you were, but you weren’t as likely to know the guys younger than you—especially if you’re looking at a time frame of five years or so.”
“I suppose …” Tully mused. “Except that in a Josephite seminary it wasn’t that difficult to know just about everybody. There weren’t that many of us.”
Zachary Tully had been ordained a Catholic priest in a religious community known as the Josephites. Basically, the order staffed parishes that served Afro-Americans.
Tully’s father was Afro, his mother Caucasian. Aside from a few so-called black characteristics, he could easily have passed for white.
He had come to Detroit almost a year ago. Ostensibly his mission had been to deliver an award to an outstanding Catholic layman who had been extremely generous to the Josephites.
Parenthetically he had parish-sat St. Joseph’s downtown so that Koesler could take a most rare vacation. And, as luck would have it, Father Tully had become involved in a homicide investigation.
More important to Father Tully than his official presentation assignment, his substitution for Koesler, and even his participation in solving a murder, was his meeting with a half-brother when neither had previously known of the other’s existence.
Lieutenant Alonzo “Zoo” Tully shared a father with Zachary Tully. They had different mothers. Alonzo’s mother—black—became a single parent when his father suddenly and simply left Detroit, his job in an auto factory, and abandoned his family.
The senior Tully had settled in Baltimore, where he met and married the woman—white—who would become Zachary’s mother. She in turn became a single parent when her husband died shortly after Zachary’s birth.
Zoo’s mother was Baptist. The denomination held no relevancy for Zoo. For as long as he could remember, he had been absorbed with police work. This single-minded dedication had cost him a wife and five children, as well as a live-in relationship.
He was now in his second marriage. Anne Marie, his present wife, was Catholic. And, until his brother Zachary appeared on the scene, Anne Marie had been Zoo’s principal link to Catholicism.
That changed radically with Father Tully’s arrival in Detroit.
Zachary’s mother and her family were staunch Catholics. They saw to it that the now fatherless Zachary was steeped in this faith.
As a result, it was quite natural that Zachary was attracted to the priesthood. Indeed, Zachary was as dedicated to his priesthood as was Zoo to his homicide squad.
Before leaving on his mission to Detroit, Zachary—whose mother was now dead—was told by his aunt about his brother.
Where Zachary had been intrigued by the relationship, Zoo was incredulous. As a boyhood Baptist and an adult irreligious, it was a radical shock for Zoo to learn that not only did he have a hitherto unknown brother but, notably, that this brother was a Catholic priest.
However, Father Tully had quickly been absorbed into Zoo’s family life.
Having carried out his mission, helped solve the homicide case, and bonded with his half-brother and sister-in-law, Father Zachary Tully had prepared—a bit reluctantly—to return to his Dallas parish—despite everyone’s urgings to stay.
In this, Father Koesler had been particularly persuasive. He announced that he was about to retire. He offered the pastorate of St. Joseph’s to Zachary. Of course, that appointment was not Father Koesler’s to give. But he was confident that he could convince Cardinal Boyle, Detroit’s archbishop, to make the assignment.
The Josephites granted Father Tully a leave of absence from his religious order. The Detroit archdiocese welcomed him and conferred on him faculties that empowered him canonically to exercise his priesthood in Detroit.
So it came to pass that Father Koesler now was on the brink of retirement. Father Tully was about to take over as pastor of Old St. Joe’s, though the assignment was not yet official.
Several testimonials had been given by various individuals and groups in observance of this retirement. Koesler had been deeply touched. But on each such occasion he had assured his friends as well as former and present parishioners that he would always be available to them. His priesthood by no means was about to end; it would merely take on a different form. Since he would no longer be responsible for the nitty-gritty of parochial life, he would be even more accessible.
But on this balmy thirty-first day of July 1998, Koesler would host the final retirement party.
Father Tully of course would co-host. He had been living in the rectory for the past few weeks. By a happy good fortune, Zoo and Anne Marie Tully’s home was within walking distance of St. Joe’s rectory.
In addition to the two priests, present at tonight’s party would be Zoo Tully and Anne Marie, Inspector Walter Koznicki and his wife Wanda, and auxiliary bishop Vincent Delvecchio.
Walt Koznicki had for a record number of years headed the Detroit Police Department’s Homicide Division. Since Father Koesler had helped solve a series of murders of nuns and priests many years ago, Koznicki and Koesler had become fast friends.
There was no essential reason for Bishop Delvecchio’s presence. But he and Koesler, though disagreeing with some frequency, had nevertheless been friends for a long while. And, in keeping with that friendship, they had composed a ceremony over the delivery of the Cardinal’s document giving Koesler Senior Priest status.
As yet it was early. Koesler and Father Tully were alone in the vast rectory. The caterers would arrive later.
Meanwhile, Father Tully was pumping Koesler for as complete a backgrounding as possible into the thought processes, values, and theological bent of Bishop Delvecchio. After all, Father Tully would be expected to deal with Delvecchio rather than with Cardinal Boyle. Routinely, the auxiliary bishops were the court of first appeal. The court of final appeal was the Cardinal—who was much happier when disputes and questions were settled without his involvement.