Page 229 - What They Did to the Kid
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What They Did to the Kid                                  217







                                             8

                                      May 31, 1963


               Things grew worse. Suddenly someone in Rome, some Machiavel-
              lian cleric slinking around behind the open-hearted Pope, probably
              some Borgia cardinal at the Sacred Congregation of Universities and
              Seminaries desperate to preserve traditional Catholicism against the
              progressive theology of Vatican II, promoted simple Rector Ralph
              Thom pson Karg up to the exaggerated rank of Papal Chamberlain
              with the title Very Reverend Monsignor.
                  As a young man, Karg had first been a freshly ordained priest
              saying Mass in a parish in an cornfield in Iowa before the War
              Department had commissioned him a chaplain in the Air Force
              with the rank of lieutenant colonel. He had come out of combat in
              the War into combat in the Church as the longest reigning rector
              of Misericordia. He had become a soldier-priest championing the
              discipline of a muscular Catholicism.
                  He accepted his elevation to Papal Chamberlain like a blister
              on his ’umility. He wore his new black and purple robes like a peni-
              tential hair shirt. He preached to us that the title and robes were
              vainglorious. He tugged at his cassock and shoulder cape. His rank
              embarrassed him. He knew he was a lightning rod for both warring
              sides in the civil war of Vatican II. I hoped the lightning would strike
              him and kill him.
                  I had watched him for ten years and I could only wonder if
              his promotion was the old Roman rule of thumb: Promoveatur ut
              amoveatur, Let him be promoted so he may be removed. Maybe some-
              one in Rome wanted to get rid of him and remodel Misery. Karg
              had lectured us with his story of his ’umble beginnings so often, my
              mind’s eye had long before fantasized the fub duck movie version of
              his life to which I added adjectives.
                  He had been  born the only  son of an Iowa  farmer whose



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