No Greater Love by William Kienzle Page A

had seen a lot.
    His dark brown hair was combed straight back. He was a tad overweight, soft from a life that had involved little physical exertion. He smiled effortlessly and often—like someone bent on selling you advertising space or time.
    He made few friends. Which is why he had so much time for Albert Cody.

    Page and Cody had overlingered in the dining room; it was time for evening study. Donnelly and Zawalich had long since departed and were in their respective rooms preparing for tomorrow’s classes.
    The two deacons rose. Page made a great show of the sign of the cross and a loud recitation of the grace after meals. Cody could not bring himself to follow suit. Even though he was preparing to lead prayer as a professional, he could not pray that ostentatiously. He finished his silent, almost surreptitious grace, and waited patiently for his companion to grind to a halt in his pretentious prayer.
    As they left the dining room, Page said, “Hey, before we split for our rooms, let’s go take a look at McNiff’s door—the one that Donnelly mucked up.”
    Laughing conspiratorially, they made their way to the bishop’s quarters.
    Thanks to Andrea Zawalich’s compulsive cleanliness, they were, of course, sadly disappointed.

Eleven
    Three weeks passed. Things were settling down into the sort of routine Father Koesler found comforting.
    When Koesler told Father Tully about the conversation he’d had with Bishop McNiff and the bishop’s invitation to help at the seminary, Tully seemed relieved. This reaction surprised Koesler.
    Though Koesler was fully in accord with the school of thought that said a retired pastor did not hang around his former parish, still, he had been ready to make himself available to St. Joe’s parish as well as the seminary. It would have made for a busy ministry, but he was sure he could handle it—he would even welcome it. Especially in retirement, it was nice to be wanted.
    He had not planned to remain in residence at the parish, but, at Tully’s invitation, had stayed on temporarily till he found another residence.
    Tully, upon learning of McNiff’s invitation, made it clear that Koesler would be welcome anytime for any reason to bunk at St. Joe’s. And it would be great if Koesler would cover at times when Tully was away on vacation or any other absence.
    What Father Koesler found odd was that he would not be needed for regular weekend fill-in.
    Detroit pastors who successfully recruited or lucked into such a commitment from outside counted their blessings.
    But Father Tully was the pastor now, and could do what he wished with this unexpected offer. If the new pastor handled all the Masses, daily and weekends, the parishioners would be getting the Gospel According to Tully. More and more these days one was apt to receive a personalized message from the pulpit. Homelists, in this postconciliar age, differed not only in their public speaking talent but also in their interpretation of the particulars of Church, State, and Scripture.
    So, while Koesler did leave a few items of clothing behind at St. Joe’s rectory, he had taken up residence more or less permanently in the seminary.
    His responsibilities there were left ambiguous. He made himself available to the students, both M.Divs and nonseminarians. The students, for their part, approached him tentatively. He was an unknown factor. And until they discovered whether he represented the center, the left, or the right, a good bit of testing would take place.
    Early on in his residence, he had volunteered to coach in the Homiletics program. Regretfully, that cut him off from the non-M.Divs, who were excluded from any course directly aimed at preparation for the priesthood.
    However, Father Koesler was convinced that homilies, whether given for just a few minutes daily, or slightly longer on weekends, were among the most rewarding and important opportunities of priestly services. He