Requiem for Moses Read Online Free

Certainly not a moral doctor. But, if I stay on this subject, I’m only going to regret the things I’ll say. Thank you for your information, Father. And good luck in your eulogy.”
    What have I gotten myself into? thought Koesler as he hung up.
    He started to add up the score. Widow seemingly in husband’s corner. Ditto the first caller. Though, on recollection, neither had much specifically positive to say about the deceased. Of course the widow was juggling a series of deadlines. So her apparent lack of distress and mourning was in keeping. …
    But these last two calls painted a dismal picture.
    Normally, there was not this much phone activity at St. Joe’s. The parish did subscribe to an answering service. But that was only because Father Koesler was the lone priest stationed here full-time.
    He decided to ask the service to cover the phones. The bother of answering all these calls played a minor role in his decision. He was more concerned that something he might say could exacerbate the situation.
    As he reached for the receiver to call the service, the phone rang. Too late. He would answer this one and then have the service take over.
    “St. Joseph’s.”
    “That you, Bob?”
    Koesler hesitated. He did not immediately recognize the caller’s voice and he was a little guarded about the use of his first name. Though he did not insist on formality, he was old school enough not to invite informality. “Yes …. Who is this?”
    “You don’t recognize me? You should; this is Dan Reichert.”
    Dan Reichert. Koesler winced. Even on splendid, carefree days, when his immune system was working on all eight cylinders he never wanted to chat with Dan Reichert.
    Reichert was a retired Detroit priest living and helping out somewhat at suburban Our Lady of Sorrows parish. Theologically and philosophically, Reichert was to the right of the late Father Charles E. Coughlin, controversial radio priest of the ’30s, as he was nearly always identified.
    Right now, Koesler had enough emotional baggage without adding Father Reichert to the top of the mess. But Reichert was, by definition, a colleague, and his priestly office merited respect. And, as a priest and colleague, it was perfectly natural to be on a first-name basis. “Hi, Dan. What’s on your mind?”
    “What’s on my mind is what’s going on in your church this evening.”
    How on God’s green earth did Reichert know about that? Before acknowledging the wake, Koesler decided to test the waters. Maybe Reichert was referring to something else … something he only thought would be going on tonight. “What’s that, Dan?”
    “You know perfectly well what I’m referring to ….”
    He knows. If only I had called the answering service seconds earlier.
    “I’m referring,” Reichert said, “to that abomination that you’re allowing to take place in a church. In a consecrated church, God save the mark!”
    “Wait a minute, Dan. Just what do you think is going to happen?”
    “You’re going to have some sort of service for this doctor. This Jewish doctor! This abortionist! ”
    Koesler felt as if he’d been hit by shotgun pellets and that he would have a most arduous time trying to dig them out.
    “Wait … first, who told you this?”
    “It doesn’t matter. If you must know, one of Sorrows’ parishioners got a call inviting him to your insidious—your bacchanal! ”
    “Bacchanal? Hardly, Dan. Besides, we’re not going to have a service.”
    “What then?” truculently.
    “An opportunity for the late doctor’s friends and relatives to view the body.”
    “What happened to all the Jewish funeral homes?”
    “The widow is a Catholic. This is her wish.”
    “Worse yet! You’re granting favors to a Catholic woman who denied—spit on—her faith to marry a heathen!”
    “Hey, Dan, you’re way out of line. It happens that the Greens were married in the Church. And the doctor lived up to his part of the bargain; he not only permitted his two