J. Powers - The Stories of J.F. Powers

“Mrs Nagel, I appreciate it, the way you’ve answered my questions, especially now I know you were visited by the Bishop, here. I’m sorry I didn’t know that before,” said Bishop Gau (the Bishop, in petto , replying, O.K., O.K. ). “And I’m sorry I had to ask you to tell your story again, but thought I should hear it live. I can understand, though, why you decided to cut a tape. Just as I can understand your husband’s feelings about visitors. I don’t like to say it, Mrs Nagel, but it’s possible, even for one in my position, to see too much of people. I’m sure the Bishop, here, will vouch for that.”

The Bishop wasn’t sure he would, but nodded to be helpful, wondering what the hell was wrong— something was, from the sound of it.

“Mrs Nagel, I want this understood. A thing like this can take years, even centuries, to check out, and then what? Win or lose, it’s still a matter of faith. Anyway, whatever I’ve said, or might say, is in no way a judgment — official, personal, or any other kind — on you or your experiences. Is that understood, Mrs Nagel?”

“Sure.”

“Good. Now, about your purpose in coming here today. While considering this, while you have my sympathy, Mrs Nagel, I must also consider what, in my opinion, is best for all concerned. And then, of course, I can only advise, not command. Now, what I advise, Mrs Nagel, is what your pastor, here, has already advised. Namely, silence. You’ve done very well so far.”

“I know. But I don’t like it this way, and I never did,” Mrs Nagel said, giving the Bishop the impression that she had said this earlier, before he came in. “Why shouldn’t I tell people the message?”

The Bishop thought he heard somebody (Monsignor Holstein?) moan.

“People wouldn’t believe you, Mrs Nagel,” said Father Barnett, sounding, the Bishop thought, too calm.

“ Some people don’t believe me now.”

“More wouldn’t,” said Father Barnett. “Many more.”

“I wouldn’t mind. I don’t mind now.”

The Bishop distinctly heard Monsignor Holstein moan.

Bishop Gau said, “Mrs Nagel, I have to consider what, in my opinion, is best for all concerned, including you. And I advise silence. Not only about the message but about everything concerning your experiences. Silence, Mrs Nagel.”

“But why ?”

“My dear Mrs Nagel,” said Monsignor Holstein, and then held his jaw, which he had been holding previously.

Monsignor Rapp cleared his throat in such a way as to attract attention. “Mrs Nagel, you haven’t told anybody else the message — except your husband and us here?”

Us here?

“No, I haven’t. But I think I should. I really think I should.”

What’s the message?

Bishop Gau said, “All right. Then I advise you to go ahead, Mrs Nagel. Tell people of your experiences, and tell them the message, too.”

“You’re not advising that !” Monsignor Holstein was very upset.

“If silence is impossible, yes, I am,” said Bishop Gau.

“Why not?” said Mrs Nagel. “It’s the truth, after all.”

“No, silence !” cried Monsignor Holstein.

“No, the truth,” said Bishop Gau. “It’s the next-best thing. She can’t go on like this. And we can’t.”

What’s the message?

“You,” said Monsignor Holstein, “ you told me it was noncontroversial.”

“I meant,” replied Father Barnett, “in the political sense.”

What’s the message?

“‘KEEP MINNESOTA GREEN’!” cried Monsignor Holstein, very upset. “What about the rest of the country? Or, for that matter, the world ?”

Bishop Gau, swiftly rising from the desk, called upon the Bishop with a look and a nod, and stood with bowed head.

The Bishop, rising with an effort, responded with a prayer.

Mrs Nagel did reveal the message to visitors, and consequently Mr Nagel was less troubled by them, but life went on as before for the clergy concerned. Monsignor Holstein was very upset in April to hear that one of his ex-curates and one of the nuns from his parish school, whose union he had opposed, were being divorced in California, and in August Father Barnett was down with his back again. This took the Bishop to Fahrenheit again — quite a homecoming! He had continued with his livery-horsing, wasn’t often seen at the Webb, and had put plenty of mileage on the Mercedes. He would have put on more if one day early in October, when the diocese was at its best and he was driving along U.S. 52, enjoying the scenery, he hadn’t been sideswiped by a truck. He was in the hospital for a while, doing fairly well for a man of his age, he understood, until he took a turn for the worse.

And he spake this parable unto certain which trusted in themselves that they were righteous, and despised others :

Two men went up into the temple to pray; the one a Pharisee, and the other a publican .

The Pharisee stood and prayed thus with himself, God, I thank thee, that I am not as other men are, extortioners, unjust, adulterers, or even as this publican .

I fast twice in the week, I give tithes of all that I possess .

And the publican, standing afar off, would not lift up so much as his eyes unto heaven, but smote upon his breast, saying, God be merciful to me a sinner .

— Luke 18:9–13

TAKING A HARD-BOILED egg from the bowl on the bar, the publican — if he could be called that, for the joint was in his wife’s name and he was now retired from his job as tax collector — squeezed it, trying to break the shell in his grip, and failed. So he held the egg down on the bar, rolled it back and forth, and in this manner broke the shell, which he removed. He sprinkled salt on the small end of the egg, and was eating this when a customer entered the joint.

“I see you’re eating an egg,” said the customer, an elderly Pharisee in a dark suit of conservative cut.

“I’m on this new diet,” said the publican.

“What new diet is this, Walt?”

“It’s this new cholesterol diet.”

“Oh, yes. I’ve been hearing about it.”

“In cholesterol, which I prefer to take in the form of eggs, I get all the things my body needs — animal fats, blood, nerve tissue, bile, to name but a few.”

“Sounds good, Walt. Small brandy, please.”

The publican was pouring a small brandy when a young thief entered the joint with a gun, saying, “This is a holdup.”

While the holdup was in progress, another customer, an unfrocked Pharisee now engaged in community work, entered the joint, saying, “Hi, fellas. Hey, what’s happening?”

“Watch it,” said the young thief.

The ex-Pharisee then spoke to the young thief in a nice way, telling him that he could jeopardize his future in the community by such conduct, if, that is, he persisted in it.

“Maybe you’re right,” said the young thief sheepishly.

“I don’t say I’m right. I don’t say you’re wrong,” said the ex-Pharisee. “I try not to make value judgments. All I ask is that you think again. In the meantime, what’ll you have, fella?”

“Just a beer.”

“Two beers, Walt.”

After serving them, the publican picked up the egg, which was eroding on the bar.

The Pharisee said, “Saw you this morning, Walt, unless my eyes deceived me.”

“No, I was there. I was standing afar off.”

“Walt, how is it I never see your wife there?”

“She’s pretty busy.”

“We’re all pretty busy, Walt, but we can still find a few hours a day for the things that matter most.”