The Sacrifice Read Online Free Page B

no priest can retire.”
    â€œAh, yes: ‘A priest forever.’”
    â€œYou can’t tell me …” Farmer shook a finger at Koesler. It was the second time today that he had been finger-whipped. He couldn’t recall that happening to him before, ever. “You can’t tell me,” Farmer repeated, “that you’ve stuck yourself on the shelf. I’ll bet you’re plenty busy.”
    â€œAs a matter of fact, I am. But, I assure you, if I got as worked up over any event as you are over this ceremony today, I sure wouldn’t voluntarily attend it.”
    â€œI’ve got reason.”
    â€œOh?”
    â€œNext month I’m going to conduct a retreat for what you might call a conservative group: Project Faith. Ever hear of them, Bob?”
    â€œUh-huh. There aren’t many members, but they sure make a lot of noise. They know how to get publicity, too.”
    â€œWell,” Farmer said, “that’s why I’m here. This is research. I’m going to come into that retreat armed with the latest propaganda the enemy is using.”
    The second time the word “enemy” had been uttered this afternoon. Could the Church survive all these enemies?
    â€œJoe”—Koesler rested a hand on Farmer’s shoulder—“what you’re saying reminds me a lot of a conversation I just had with a couple of priests here. Did you see them?” He inclined his head toward Reichert and Morgan. “Do you know them?”
    Farmer looked directly at the two priests huddled in the grotto. “Sure, I know them. Fine, upstanding gentlemen. I didn’t interrupt your conversation with them … you looked like you were having too much fun.” The mischievous gleam was back in Farmer’s eyes.
    â€œYeah,” Koesler said with some disgust. “At least you’ve got a better reason to be here than they do. You’re preparing a talk. They’re here mostly out of curiosity.”
    â€œDamn straight!” Farmer stated forcefully.
    A lingering silence followed.
    â€œJoe,” Koesler said finally, “you go back as far as I do … and more. Can you remember … what was it we used to talk about?”
    Farmer’s brow furrowed. “Hard to say now. After the damn Council, we went through a bunch of changes.” He shook his head. “I must admit I didn’t pay much attention to the thing …
    â€œI had no idea it would go as far as it’s gone,” he said, after a moment. “It didn’t have as much immediate effect on me. I was going around our neck of the country, doing my thing, preaching retreats. Not very much that happened during the sixties and seventies affected me personally.” He looked up at Koesler. “But I was watching you guys. And, man, it was pitiful.
    â€œIn most parishes, there was a fresh wall between the priests and the people. Especially when the parish councils started up. Nobody knew what the hell was going on. Who was running things? For as long as anyone could remember, the pastor had been boss. But with the parish councils, there was a grab for power. For the first time, parishioners not only had a say in what went on; they grasped the reins.”
    â€œYou make it seem so sinister. As if the laity—at least those who were active enough to be interested in a parish council—were plotting a takeover.”
    â€œMaybe there was no conspiracy. But when they saw the barn, they really headed for home. And by home, I mean the books, the expenditures, the budget.”
    â€œI didn’t have that problem. We didn’t have any course in fiscal management when I was in the seminary—and neither did you. Hell, I was happy that competent people could take control of the finances. No, my problem was with council members who wanted to take over the altar and the pulpit.
    â€œBut, hell, Joe, that’s all water under the bridge. We’ve