“Reverend,” Koesler said with some solemnity, “I think you know, I really think you know very well where I’m heading. Although at this point as I was mulling over these facts just a few minutes ago, I was hesitant to take the hypothesis I was forming any further. Then I decided I owed it to too many people not to follow through to whatever end it might lead.”
Tully noticed a change in Krieg’s eyes. They began darting about the room, as if things were closing in, as if he were being pressed into a corner.
“I noticed,” Koesler continued, “that the information sheets that Sergeant Moore gave me state that you were born here in Michigan, within the Detroit Archdiocese, in fact, in Imlay City. There is only one Catholic parish in that city,” Koesler added parenthetically, smiling at the memory of his classmate giving him much more information than required. “Sacred Heart parish was established as a mission in 1874 and as a parish in 1928. Anyway, it’s been there much more than long enough to have served you and your parents.
“By the way, I could just as easily have gotten like information from any Catholic parish in the world. But it was convenient checking things out with the pastor there who happens to be my classmate.
“First, I asked him to check the baptismal record. He found your record easily from the alphabetical listing. We already knew the year of your birth, and figured, correctly, that you would have been baptized shortly thereafter. That’s the custom among Catholics.
“There was your name, date of birth, date of baptism, names of godparents, and your parents’ names. Your father, Helmut Krieg, and your mother, Rebecca Weissman. And next to your mother’s name, the letters AC-Acatholica-non-Catholic.
“Then, I asked the pastor to see if he could locate a marriage record for your parents. He did. They were married at Sacred Heart parish just a year before you were born. The form included spaces for the name of the priest who witnessed the ceremony, the two witnesses, the date of marriage, your parents’ parents’ names-your mother’s parents were Asa Weissman and Sarah Blum-your parents’ names, their residences, and their place of baptism. Your father was baptized in a Cleveland Catholic Church. Your mother was never baptized. She was Jewish. And a dispensation from the impediment of disparity of cult was granted, so your father, a Catholic, could validly marry your mother, a Jew, who would remain a Jew.
“Since your mother was Jewish, it confirmed the hypothesis I had formed without this verification: that, by Jewish law, you are a Jew.”
An extended silence followed.
“This,” Koesler said finally, “may be why you were so familiar with the rabbi’s Jewish joke. This is why neither the rabbi nor you would eat the meat-and-dairy-mixed Stroganoff. This is why you stayed with a meatless meal on Sunday and, when meat was the main dish on Monday’s menu, you passed on all dairy products-even to not taking cream in your coffee. You didn’t learn the rosary from your mother. Instead, you learned the customs of Judaism, chief among which are the very strict dietary laws for which Jews are known.”
Another significant pause. Tully beckoned Mangiapane to him. He whispered to Mangiapane, who nodded and left the room. Koesler didn’t know what that was about, but, he reflected, it was not the first time someone had walked out on one of his sermons.
At length, Krieg looked at Koesler and spoke. “So Jews would consider me to be Jewish. So what?”
“No,” Koesler said, “I think you’ll find that if the Jews accept you as one of them-and they have very strict laws governing who is Jewish-the rest of the world will agree with them.
“But back to the building blocks. Once we establish the fact that you grew up being Jewish, lots of other details fall into place. The first, and most important, of these blocks is that your situation is precisely the same as the four writers you were blackmailing. You could not afford-any more than they-to have your secret revealed.
“How would it look for one of the world’s leading Christian evangelists to be Jewish? Your considerable following may or may not be sympathetic to the cause of Israel as a state. But how would they, as fundamentalist Christians, react to being led by a Jew? If your ancestry were revealed, you stand to lose everything. Not unlike the nun, the monk, the rabbi, and the priest, eh?
“So, then, I ask myself, what if one of the writers discovered your secret? What would happen if one of them found out you were Jewish? If I could discover this secret, surely someone else could. The problem would be in arriving at the initial suspicion that you might have Jewish ancestry. Who would be in a position to suspect such a thing?
“Maybe Marie, Augustine, or David Benbow would search for some flaw in your background to use as a bargaining chip. But where would they look? To your private life? To your corporate affairs? They would not find anything, would they?
“But of course there was another person of Jewish heritage in our group: Rabbi Winer.
“A few moments ago I told you I called Sacred Heart parish in Imlay City. I neglected to mention that when I asked for your record of baptism and your parents’ record of marriage, my classmate commented that mine was the second call this week for those very same records. I asked who had called for them and he said an official with the Windsor tribunal. Now, isn’t that an odd coincidence?”
Judging by the reaction of everyone in the room, including Krieg, the consensus was, yes, that was an extremely odd coincidence.
“Well,” Koesler continued, “that somewhat complicated my line of thought. And I do not relish complications. I had to find out who else was interested in these documents.
“I’ve been in situations similar to Father Dunn’s, when a call will come from a chancery or tribunal in some other diocese for one record or another. There’s nothing particularly secret about such information. The presumption is that another diocese has need of the record, so you give the information readily, without question. It was the coincidence-that our neighboring diocese in Canada and I should want the same information at roughly the same time.
“So I phoned the Windsor tribunal and found-not to my great surprise, really-that no one there had called for such information.
“Then I checked with the college’s switchboard for outgoing long distance calls from Rabbi Winer’s room. And what do you suppose? There was a call to Imlay City. Clever of the rabbi to masquerade as a tribunal official. But why did he do it?
“I don’t know what Rabbi Winer may have observed before we assembled here at Marygrove. P.G. may have published a specialized treatment of rabbis or Judaism, I don’t know. But I do know that Rabbi Winer saw the same things I saw on Sunday evening. It was his joke whose punch line you stole, Reverend. He might have wondered how you would be familiar with the Yiddish word for ultimate frustration or agony. But, I understand that many non-Jews, especially those who’ve been in the military service, or those who’ve heard Myron Cohen’s act, or those who have Jewish friends, may well be familiar with either that specific joke and/or that specific word.
“And, having toyed with-but not touched-his serving of beef Stroganoff, he saw you order a special dinner that began and ended with dairy products and not meat. That, in itself, of course, would not have been nearly enough for the rabbi to arrive at any hard conclusion. Except that he, like the others, was looking for something, anything. And he would have been much more sensitized to Jewish dietary laws than a Gentile. Apparently, it was enough to trigger his inquisitiveness. He had access to the same press release I saw. He knew you were born in Imlay City and that you had been a Catholic. Proof was only a phone call away-for him as well as for me.
“Once he learned that you were officially Jewish, he saw his magic bargaining chip. And it was evident in his behavior. Before his discovery he meekly agreed to appear at this convocation and was submissive to you at dinner.