Writings
Some years ago, I told you the story of Father Gene Monahan and the day he addressed a large gathering of his fellow priests, the better to address the changes that took place in the Roman Catholic Church in the wake of Pope John XXIII and the Second Vatican Council. Approaching the platform, he was barefooted. He had on a pair of whitewashed trousers and a T-shirt. That’s all. Peering out at his colleagues, he said:
This being summertime, it is not uncommon for me to run into parishioners on days other than Sundays, in places other than sanctuaries, and have them say to me (sheepishly….and more than a little apologetically): “You probably haven’t seen me in a while, Reverend. But it’s summer, you know. And in the summer, I get my religion on the golf course.”
All right, church, listen up. On this, the first Sunday of the new year, I want to make an introduction. His name is Paul. He is 25 years old. And he has never been sick a day in his life. Until now. Suddenly, and with little apparent cause, he has begun experiencing stomach upset, intestinal distress, frequent headaches and low-grade fevers. He sleeps fitfully….when he sleeps.
I have no aptitude for criminology, but this much I know. If you are going to put someone on trial for murder, it helps to have a corpse. I am sure people have been convicted without one, just as I am sure that life insurance claims have been settled without one. But in both criminal cases and insurance cases, it’s helpful to have one. Corpses bring closure.
