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Today we will be concluding our three Cs series.

For you newcomers here at St. Francis,

that's "current crises in Catholicism."

Oh. My next series will be the most important and inspiring

I have ever given.

I don't know what it is yet, but it will be next Sunday. Now, don't you miss it.

Last night, as I was thinking

about our three Cs series,

I fell asleep. -

No, I was straining over the most recent crisis to face our Church today,

and consequently I dreamt Bette Davis was ordained a priest.

I'M SURE YOU'VE GUESSED IT BY NOW: the question
we must ask each other this morning is,

should women become priests?

Of course, I remember when the big moral question was,

should we chew the host or let him melt in our mouths?

However, I really think that today's crisis is controversial enough

to open up to a dialogue sermon.

We've had dialogue sermons in the past.
They can be great fun if we are not too shy.

Let's just raise our hands. Yes, Mrs. Curry?

What is the official reason for women not becoming priests?

The reason that the pope gives is that priests
should be in the image of Christ.

However, that decision is not infallible,

so there's hope for you yet, Mrs. Curry.

- Oh! -Yes, Ginny? Mrs. Hart.

Does being in the image of Christ mean that
you'll have to grow a beard, Father Farley?

No.

And even if I had to, I wouldn't, Ginny.

It'd make me look at least 10 years older.

On the side.

What do you think of women becoming priests?

Uh, what do I...

Uh... I wouldn't want to sway anybody's viewpoint.

I'll plead the Fifth on that one.

This is a dialogue sermon.

I know it is a dialogue sermon.

Dialogue means an exchange--

I know what dialogue means.

Is this your first visit to our church?

- Yes. -Oh. Welcome.

Mrs. Quinn?

I haven't given my unswayed viewpoint yet.

That's true, you haven't.

I think women should be priests.

Really? Well, that's one opinion, isn't it?

Now, Mrs. Quinn.

Don't you want to know why I think women should be priests?

By all means. Don't be shy.

When Christ was crucified,

only three people stayed with him till the very end.

Two of the three were women.

At the foot of the cross was his youngest apostle--

John.

His mother, and an ex-hooker.

On his way to being crucified,

it was a woman who pushed her way through a very hostile crowd

and wiped all the blood and male spit off his face.

And the first person he appeared to after his resurrection

was Mary Magdalene.

Don't you feel that the courage and loyalty

these women showed the actual person, Jesus,

is in his image?

You really should invest in a portable pulpit.

Now, Mrs. Quinn.

I forgot what I was gonna say.

Well, that happens.

Who's next?

Oh, come, now.

I saw hands raised before, uh...

Nobody?

Is...

All righty.

A couple of announcements...

Hi.

Who was that masked man?

An outpatient from the state hospital.

- Ginny. -I don't know. He made good sense to me.

Uh-huh.

Just let me know where I send the application.

All right, Martha. Marion.

Hello, Father.

Hello, Father.

Oh, Lord. It didn't go well.

Father? - Yeah?

- I've got Sanka and muffins. -Not this morning, Margaret.

The muffins are nice and hot.

Oh.

Gotta cut back. I'm getting fat.

What happened?

It was the worst dialogue sermon ever!

Well, you can't blame the muffins, Father.

No. They're delicious.

I've got to be better prepared.

I don't even know what series I'm starting next week.

I don't want to be disturbed for the rest of the day, Margaret.

But, Father, you've got eight appointments.

Thank you, Margaret.

- What am going to say? -Thank you, Margaret.

But, Father, some of these people have been--

Doesn't want to be disturbed.

Cripe!

This is a recording. Father Farley can't be disturbed.

Monsignor Burke is on line one.

Tell him I'm out.

Please, Father. I won't lie to a Monsignor.

You wouldn't lie to the paperboy.

Hey, Tom, how's it going?

You have to see these pictures of our trip. Eileen and I were in stitches.

It's a shame you couldn't come to dinner.

I'm sorry I had to miss it, Tom. Duty called.

There's some great ones of you.

Well... I'm very photogenic in Europe, nowhere else.

I'm doing everything I can to get transferred there.

I'll do everything I can to make sure you won't be.

We need you right here.

As a matter of fact, I need you here at the seminary tomorrow.

That's actually why I am calling.

We are having a special meeting of the advisory board.

What's the problem?

Two seminarians, Frank Carney and Alfred Verossi.

A special friendship. I've been hearing rumors.

From?

My assistant, Salvatore Fitzgerald.

Is he the only one?

He's very reliable.

Don't you want to ask a few seminarians before you call a meeting?

We don't have time.

We have to decide who will be next year's deacons this week.

In case you've forgotten...

I haven't forgotten.

Good. So I'll see you here tomorrow afternoon at 5:30.

Maybe, when we come up for air, I'll show you the pictures.

Oh, hey. Good. Fine.

God bless.

God...

bless.

Right.

Five...

Ooh, I got it!

All this week, the rector and the faculty at St. Francis

and I will be deciding which seminarians

should become deacons.

What better time to begin

our "on the road to the priesthood" series?

Now, since we don't have a deacon in our parish,

you might wonder what exactly does one do.

A deacon must commit himself to celibacy.

He can then preach, give out communion,

visit the sick,

teach religion, and counsel.

Being a deacon is primarily and most importantly a big pain in the ass.

Oops.

Neck.

- Hello, Father Farley. -Hey, how are you doing?

One minute, please.

I'm sorry, I forget your name.

Scott. Scott Alvarez.

We met at one of Monsignor Burke's parties.

Yeah, of course. Who is that?

That's Mark Dolson.

- Mark Dolson? He goes here? -Yes.

Funny, I never met him.

Well, he never goes to any parties.

He has a real reputation here.

Most of the faculty give him independent studies

to keep him out of their classes.

Is that so? Oh! One other question, Todd...

- Scott. -I'm sorry. They sound alike.

What do you know about Alfred Verossi

and, uh...Carney?

- Frank? -Frank. Yeah.

- They're best friends. -Uh-huh.

Okay. Well, you have a good day, Matt. Thank you.

Mark Dolson.

Father Farley.

Yeah. This the seminarian's new uniform?

I'm going to run.

Oh, that's why you were dressed the way
you were at mass yesterday.

Yeah. Well, I try to keep a schedule. Eight miles a day.

It's about four miles between here and your church.

Glad I could be a pit stop for you.

Tell me, Mark, why do you think women are better than men?

I didn't say they were better.

They're more loyal.

Well, I must tell you, I really admired what you
were saying during my mass yesterday.

Don't ever do a thing like that again.

Why not?

You were challenging me in front of my congregation.

- I took a stand. -A grandstand!

If you really want to be a deacon, you should
go to mass right here in the seminary.

- I prefer going to mass here. -Well, then why don't you?

Because the rector sent me to yours.

Monsignor Burke sent you to my mass?

Yes.

Did he say why?

He said you were the most tactful priest in the diocese,

and that tact was something I needed to learn.

That's not why he sent you.

- It's not? -He was trying to get back at me

for canceling a dinner engagement.

I'm sorry, I don't understand.

He gets upset if I cancel anything but he never shows it.

He'll just do something prankish.

Well, I'm sure he knows your reputation.

He certainly knows my dialogue sermons.

He just put the two together, hoping for exactly what happened.

You did what he wanted you to do.

You cancel dinners with him often?

Is that any of your business?

Why did you cancel?

A member of my parish had a problem and I couldn't get away.

Listen. What do you know about Frank Carney and Alfred Verossi?

I usually see them together during the day.

We worked together on different projects.

What do you want to know?

Well, there's a rumor that they're not only
together all day but all night as well.

Do you know if that's so?

No, I don't.

But so what if they are?

Now, don't play innocent with me, Mark.

When I was in the seminary, you could only travel in threes.

I mean, things have loosened up but there are still taboos.

They haven't taken any vows yet.

There's a serious question if they'll be allowed to, ever.

- That's why I'm here. -That's not right.

Well, I'd love to talk to you about it,

but if there is anything the Monsignor likes
better than chastity, it's punctuality.

- See you. -Can I ask you a question?

Why did you cancel the dinner with Monsignor Burke?

I already told you.

He and his sister have pictures of a trip we took to Yugoslavia.

He wanted to get together with me over dinner to look at them.

So why didn't you?

The only thing I could imagine worse than the trip itself

would be pictures of the trip.

So you told him you were busy.

A harmless lie.

I didn't know there was such a thing.

I've spoken to you about Frank Carney and Alfred Verossi.

I've spoken with a few of the other seminarians about them

on the advice of Father Farley.

My perception is that Frank Carney and Alfred Verossi

are in love with each other.

I also suspect that they've slept together.

Now, I feel, as many of you feel,

that we have to stop the flow

of neurotic priests into the Church right here.

Is there proof that they--

There are no photos, Pat,

but I trust my perceptions,

and I'm asking all of you to trust them, as well.

Where's Alfred? I have to give him this.

That's beautiful, Robin.

You made this?

I have to give it to Alfred.

Uh. He should be here.

He's not. Where is he?

I don't know. Let's go get him.

He shouldn't be late, should he, Mark Dolson?

We'll get a hold of him.

- He said he'd be here. -You wait here. Okay?

I'll be right back.

Alfred.

Alfred.

Frank.

I want Argentina.

Eileen thinks Scandinavia.

Which do you prefer?

Let me take these home, and I'll decide right away.

Tim, are you trying to get out of this meeting?

Come on, Tom. I made the first three.

Why did you expel Frank and Alfred?

- If you'd care to make an appointment-
- Why did you expel them?

They're taking a leave of absence.

For how long?

You're in no position to question me--

They were friends.

- You know that's all they were? -I talked to them.

Then you know they're in love?

I know they were serious about their vows.

For now.

I can't be sure that in eight or ten years, they still would be.

As you know, the tricky thing about priests
is that they can only live with other men.

Jesus and St. John dealt with it.

I hope you're not saying what I think you're saying.

As you know, St. John always referred to himself

as the one whom Jesus loved.

During the last supper, John rested his head upon Christ's chest.

I'm sure if you saw that,

both of them would be taking a leave of absence too.

Christ was God.

Neither Frank Carney nor Alfred Verossi

made any claims in that direction,

although you might.

Christ was also a man.

And he asked for love.

And whether you like it or not, love doesn't always flow

in comfortable little channels that make it easy

for homophobic autocrats to make decisions!

I think that does it.

It looks as if we have our class of deacons for the next year.

Congratulations, gentlemen.

There's someone we let by last week that
I'D LIKE TO COME BACK TO: Mark Dolson.

I'm reconsidering.

I think he needs time. What do you think, Pat?

He has passion.

Sometimes that looks like immaturity.

Passion is fine,

but I think that his passion needs time to mature.

I don't think he's ready to be a deacon.

You may get resistance from the women in my parish.

- What do you mean? -During my last dialogue sermon,

he publicly proclaimed that women should be priests.

It totally wiped me out. It was murder.

All joking aside, it is exactly that kind of arrogance

that makes me feel he should take a year or two off

to think about whether or not

he really wants to be a priest in the Roman Catholic Church.

Tom. I did invite opinions.

It wasn't just arrogance.

Today, he had an uninvited opinion

on the Frank Carney-Alfred Verossi issue.

He suggested that Jesus and St. John

might've been in love with each other.

What if he decided to come out with that
in one of your dialogue sermons?

Paul.

I have no objectivity about him.

He put me through the mill for six months in Philosophy.

Why don't we take a day or two and think about it?

Pat, I think that's a good idea.

In all fairness, we should hold off.

For a day or two.

All right. The rector's advisor has advised us,

and we shall abide. May we take a break now?

Yeah, sure. Why not?

Just 15 minutes.

Tim...

Can we step outside?

This sounds like a fight.

Not quite.

What are you trying to do, Tim?

- Nothing. -I heard what he called me.

- Of course I did. -Do you think I'm a homophobic autocrat?

I'm still trying to figure out what it means.

You know what it means, Tim.

I was just agreeing with Pat.

Actually, I would think you'd be pleased.

- About what? -I'm finally getting involved in your seminary.

But why are you so interested in Mark Dolson?

I'm not.

I think you are.

I think, for some reason, you're impressed with him.

I'm not. I mean...

Well, I think the boy is sincere,

but he needs guidance.

Well, then, give it to him.

- Me? -Yes.

I've been trying to get a deacon in your parish for years.

But I'm no teacher. We both know that.

Maybe that's what Mark Dolson needs, a non-teacher.

I don't have the time, Tom. I run the parish all alone.

So he can help you.

I'm not sure he would be helpful.

So you agree with me about him?

- No. I don't. -Then work with him.

I'll let him by if you work with him.

If you don't, he's out.

All right.

All right, what?

All right. I'll work with him.

You mean it?

Yes.

Okay.

I'll give him to you for one month from the day he's ordained a deacon.

Only a month?

Let's see what kind of sermons he gives

and I want to know if he can relate to your congregation.

He says he wants to be a parish priest.
I think he should be a Trappist.

Let's see what you can do.

Do me one favor. Don't tell him there's any time limit.

I don't think he's the kind that will function well under pressure.

Fine. I'll stay away completely. He's all yours for a month.

Just make sure you invite me to his first sermon.

I see you're still in uniform.

Hello, Father.

Can I give you a lift?

I have to run.

Why do you exercise so much? Working out your hostility?

No, I don't have any hostilities.

I'm preparing for celibacy.

You may not have to.

What did you say?

You may not have to prepare for celibacy, or the priesthood.

- What are you talking about? -Get in.

This must look like we're doing a drug deal.

Father, please.

Mark, Monsignor Burke doesn't think you're ready to be a deacon.

Why not?

He says you're immature and you need a year or two off

to decide whether or not you should become a priest.

That's Latin for "get lost."

- I'll kill him. -Oh, no hostilities?

Why isn't he telling me this? Why did he send you?

After what you called him?

Mark, if you want to be a priest, you can't do things like that.

I had to. No one else at that seminary cares--

Save it.

I spoke to Monsignor Burke.

You're gonna be made a deacon like the rest of them.

Thank you.

However, my good deed did not go unpunished.

You've been assigned to me.

What?

Monsignor Burke let you by on the condition that I work with you.

I don't want to be a special assignment.

Oh, fine. Then you'll never be a deacon
and I'll have less work to do.

Fine.

Mm-hmm.

What does he think you'll teach me that I can't be taught at the seminary?

Mark, contrary to what you might think,

I am considered to be one of the best priests in this diocese.

I'm not bragging. That's just the way things are.

- You're popular. -Mmm-hmm.

That doesn't mean you can teach me what I need to learn.

- You don't want to be popular? -No.

- You do want to be a priest? -Yes.

Then shut up and get in the car.

All right.

Ah! I'm not getting a picture.

The lens cap is still on, Dad.

Hmm!

Good.

Work out a schedule with him yet?

With Mark? No, not yet. Let him enjoy the party.

A month is not a long time, Tim.

Easy for you to say.

So, you made it.

Almost. I'm not a priest yet.

Did you think you'd get this far?

Sometimes, no.

You still running?

- Yeah. -Eight miles?

- Up to 10 now. -Great!

You look good.

Thanks.

So, you're happy?

Well, you look happy.

Well, that's a start, isn't it?

Yeah, it's a start.

- Father Farley. -Oh, hello again.

I understand you'll be working with Mark this summer.

Yes. I'm looking forward to a lot of fun...

We're going to our place on the lake for most of the summer.

Mark hasn't been there in almost four years.

Do you think he'll be able to break away for a little while?

He used to love to water-ski.

He must've liked the feeling of walking on water.

No. I think it was more the speed and the wind.

He liked to make waves.

He has a history of that.

Pardon me?

Okay. I see the collar.

But you're not really going all the way with this, are you, Mark?

Yes. Have you moved out of the house yet?

Well, that's what I want to talk to you about.

As a matter of fact, I really need to talk to you.

A romance?

What else?

What does he do?

He owns a travel agency.

So I can expect a lot of postcards?

He's married. But he doesn't live with her any more.

He moved out a month ago.

Kids?

Three. He's asked me to live with him.

He's older than I am.

Did he move out because of you?

He would've moved out anyway.

He made a promise to his wife.

He's got a responsibility to her.

- He is responsible. -Then why's he asking you to move in?

Because we love each other.

- The way he and his wife loved each other? -You don't understand.

He's making you the reason for ending it.

You're the one he's gonna blame when he starts feeling guilty.

He's not Catholic.

Catholics don't have a patent on guilt.

No. They're just the number one manufacturers of it.

Is that all you think I'm trying to do, make you feel guilty?

I have to go. Congratulations.

Liz!

How's Friday...? -What?

Friday. To start our lessons?

You're calling them lessons?

Well, you can call them anything you like.

I'm calling them lessons. Is Friday good for you?

Not really.

Okay. How's Thursday?

The senior-citizen center has a dance every Thursday.

I'm the DJ.

How about Wednesday?

Kids from the orphanage.

Tuesday?

Prison.

Well, Monday is no good for me. I go to the races.

We're going all the way back to Friday.

Tell me I'm gonna keep you from a leper colony.

Let's just decide Fridays.

At some point, you'll be expected to give a sermon.

Father de Nicola gave me some of yours from his homily class,

so why don't we just take your most recent one

and we'll go over it together?

You do have it memorized?

Yes, but you have it right there, why don't you just read it?

I don't want to read it, I want to hear it, hear your technique.

My technique?

I've seen what you can do when somebody else is in the pulpit.

It's a different story when you're up there yourself. Go ahead.

Jesus--

Jesus is not impressed with your mink hats

and your cashmere coats

and your blue hair.

Never say "you" or "your." It's "we" and "our." Always.

Jesus is not impressed with, uh, our...

mink hats and our cashmere coats.

And... our blue hair?

Yeah, cut the blue hair.

Those things are our shackles.

How can light and air penetrate the clutter of objects

with which we shower ourselves?

Scratch the "with which."

Just say, "Which we shower ourselves with."

Sermons can't be grammatically correct?

Sermons should be understood.

I don't shower myself with objects and...

I don't wear mink hats.

Why do I have to say "we"?

I'm just trying to tell you what works.

And if what works isn't the truth?

Mark...

Do you like my sermons?

Well...

No.

What do you mean, "Well, no"?

I have to sign autographs after mass.

I've never liked song-and-dance theology.

Oh, I see.

Monsignor Burke is a homophobic autocrat,

now I'm Father Bojangles.

Look, maybe things were different when you were growing up

but when I was a kid, the Church was a circus.

Everyone sang top 40 tunes in mass,

didn't matter if they related.

I remember once on Ascension Thursday,

the day Jesus ultimately transcends the world

and body and soul enter heaven,

the hip-hymn committee sang "Leaving On A Jet Plane."

Why can't I say what I want from the pulpit?

I think people respect someone who states his position clearly.

Oh, you state it as clearly as you want.

If it is not their position, they will turn on you.

So the only reason you give sermons is to be liked?

I like being liked.

It gives me a warm feeling,

that and wine are the only warmth I get.
I'm not about to give up either of them.

You'd be liked more for being real and sober.

Excuse me, Father.

The Kellys are waiting for you in the rec room.

- The who? The Kellys? -Mmm-hmm.

They called last week. Remember?

They're worried because they never fight.

Oh! Mickey and Bill. Never fight? That's all they do.

- Now, Father! -I'll prove it to you.

I made the appointment with Mickey.

You tell Bill that she got the date mixed
up and see what that gets started.

I won't tell them a lie--

It's not a lie. That's creative counseling.

No, Father. I don't think it's right.

You know, the word "scruples," it comes from the Latin,

meaning "pebbles."

Margaret is a veritable boulder.

I'll take care of Mickey and Bill, and then
you and I will finish in my office.

How are you two doing?

So far, I've been called a song-and-dance man, a phony and a drunk.

You could drink less.

I will have you know I have never missed

a mass, a class or an appointment

in my entire career as a priest.

You're just going to cancel one now.

Canceling is not missing.

I'll tell you something else.

So far, this week, I have dealt with four broken marriages,

three potential abortions

and seven I-don't-know-why-I'm-alives.

All I am trying to say is that there are
serious moral and social conditions

that should be dealt with from the pulpit.

Let me put it to you this way.

You will be giving a sermon during my mass.

I will tell you flat out. You are not gonna give
this kick-ass sermon to my congregation.

So what are you suggesting I do?

I'm not suggesting, I am telling you, don't kick ass.

Better that than to kiss it.

Mickey, Bill, hi.

Mickey, I would've sworn we said Monday. Be right back.

He said Friday. I know he said Friday.

Why can't you just admit you made a mistake?

You can never admit you're wrong.

Mark.

Dolson.

I am doing this for your own good, Mark. Believe me.

Monsignor Burke can keep you a deacon for the next ten years.

Now, if he doesn't think you are shaping up,

you will never become a priest.

The only thing that can influence him more than I can is my congregation.

You must give a friendly sermon.

Hey! How are you? I married them three weeks ago.

Made their vows in the car.

Don't worry. It was an outdoor wedding. Now!

Every sermon has a theme, right?

There's the "what if" sermons, "remember when" sermons,

"why" sermons, et cetera, et cetera.

The "why" sermon is the most fundamental,
so your theme will be, "why go to mass?"

- "Why go to mass?" -Yes.

Don't be afraid to be charming.

I want you to be personable.

You know, talk about yourself. Huh?

- For instance, did your family go to mass together? -Yeah.

Were you good in church?

- No. -Oh, even then?

What's this, a summit conference on the street?

- Hi, Ginny, Martha. -Hi.

- Coming for drinks on Thursday night, right? -You bet.

- The McCabes and the Gilmores are coming, too. -Oh, great!

And bring your friend. I like the way he thinks.

What did you do that was bad?

- When? -In church?

Oh, I'd laugh a lot.

Really? Why?

Someone's stomach would rumble,

or a baby would throw his mother's hat in the aisle, and I'd laugh.

I knew I had to stop but trying to stop just made me hysterical.

A few times, my father had to drag me outside.

Did he hit you?

No. Never.

He shook me a few times.

Why d'you ask that?

Oh. It's nothing. Where did you and your family go after mass?

Bakery.

Oh! Now, that's more like it. Nice. What would you get?

Jelly donuts.

Jelly donuts! Now, that's great.

You see? That's the kind of thing you gotta go for.

People don't come to mass to hear about donuts.

That's exactly what they want to hear about.

That's what they are going to hear the first Sunday there's an opening.

I want you to get ready immediately.

Why immediately?

Cancelations come up at any time.

Now, go on. Get to work on the jelly-donut sermon. Go on!

Sister Rosalie. Father Farley. Look, don't kill me,

I'm afraid we're gonna have to reschedule the marionettes.

Oh. Did I tell you about the coughs?

- Coughs? -Yeah.

If you hear a lot of coughing, pick up the pace, they are getting bored.

That is ridiculous! How can the spirit move me if I'm listening for coughs?

The spirit move you?

Mark, here are the facts. If the people of my
parish think that you're cute and witty,

Monsignor Burke will begin proceedings for your canonization.

But if they think you are what used to be called in the seminary

a Bangladesh granola-head,

you will instantly be shipped to a rustic bakery
in the mountains with the Trappists.

Those are your choices.

What do they bake there?

Today, we were supposed to see

Sister Rosalie and her merry marionettes,

but Sister Claire accidentally slammed the car door

on Sister Rosalie's hand, and...

It's nothing serious,

but she operates the bottom part of the puppet with that hand,

so we'll have to wait.

However, I have a treat for all of us.

In keeping with our "on the road to the priesthood" series,

we are going to hear a first sermon.

We have with us today a young man...

...who was just ordained a deacon.

Some of you may remember him from our last dialogue sermon.

There's a certain James Dean quality about him.

I think you'll find it very exciting.

Would you welcome, please, Deacon Dolson?

It's funny, I never stopped to think

that on my way to becoming a priest,

I'd have to live with the name "Deacon Dolson."

It sounds pretty silly, don't you think? "Deacon Dolson."

Can I ask all of us... a question?

Why did we come to mass today?

What brought us to church this morning?

As a teenager,

I had a friend who answered that question by saying,

"I go to mass because my parents go."

But one day, I heard his father talking to my father.

"Betty and I go to mass for the kids."

I know, when I was young, I liked going to church

because right after mass,

my father would take us to the bakery.

All four of us, my two sisters, my brother, and I

would pick out what we'd like.

And I'd almost always get jelly donuts.

I'd never wait to get home before having at least one.

Anyway, uh...

Jelly donuts aren't a very good reason for going to mass, are they?

Speed it up. Speed it up.

What are your reasons? -

I wonder if the coughing lot of you know,

or try to know, why you pull yourselves out of
bed every Sunday morning and come here?

I think I'm going out the back way today.

Do you need to come to mass? Do you need the Church?

Ideally, the purpose of the Church is to become obsolete.

But until it is, we need the habit of coming together,

to... collectively recognize that there is another world.

But you come here with your mink hats...

and your cashmere coats

and your blue hair.

Oy vey!

Those things are your shackles.

They are accessories you have made essential.

You are essential!

Helen, he's very young and high-spirited,

uh, sort of like a thoroughbred at the starting gate.

I come to this mass because of you.

- I know. -I don't come to be preached to.

Yes. Well... He has to start someplace.

I mean, if he were going to be a dentist,
there's always that first set of molars.

I am not a molar.

I know. I, for one, have always thought of you a bicuspid.

All right.

Oh! Thank you for the bottle of bubbly. Thank Jim too.

Will do. And talk to that boy.

I will. I will. Oh, Mr. Jennings.

Father Farley.

How could he allow someone like that in the pulpit?

What's the matter with him?

Actually, Mark made some very sound points.

Blue hair?

Do I have blue hair?

No, you don't have blue hair,

but your face is getting there.

What are you teaching at the seminary these days?

Do you have a course in making Molotov cocktails yet?

Well, Mark, the parish poll is in.

80% of those interviewed,

having heard the spirit move you,

feel you and the spirit should move each other

to that rustic bakery in the mountains with the Trappists.

Father.

Well, they stopped coughing.

They also stopped breathing.

Muffins.

What happened?

James Dean had his debut.

Mr. Hartigan and Father de Nicola--

- I do not want to see Mr. Hartigan. -He's waiting.

I cannot cope with Mr. Hartigan right now.

Well, I don't think he'll leave until he talks to you.

What did he say?

He said that they should take care of their own souls

and stop making so much money.

Good for you. Shake them up.

Well, that's fine, Margaret. Why don't you join the revolution?

You'll be working in a soup kitchen.

I better get to Hartigan before he breaks my neck

for keeping him waiting.

You two stay away from each other.

Mr. Hartigan, hello. Hi, Pat.

I don't believe Monsignor Burke let that boy become a deacon.

You're making this much worse than it is.

He has no right being in the pulpit.

Well, he's very young and high-spirited,

like a thoroughbred at the starting gate.

Church is not a racetrack, Father Farley.

Yeah, that's true. However, I do remember

one time when you asked me to make a special intention

for Billy's Hope to win, place or show in the fifth.

- I worked very hard for everything I own. -There's no denying.

Some kid who probably never worked a
day in his life telling me I'm shackled?

- I don't feel shackled. -Oh, you shouldn't. No.

I don't mean to come in here and tell you how to run our parish.

- Don't apologize. -But he really burned my onion.

Well, I'm delighted that you came by, Mr. Hartigan.

It's always good to feel the pulse of the parish.

Well, okay. By the way, did you get that bottle
of sparkling Burgundy my wife sent?

Yes. Thank you, and thank... her for me.

I will.

Is everything all right?

Mark, when I first came here, the people didn't want me.

The priest I replaced was well loved.

Nobody was happy with his transfer.

The men ignored me.

The women were painfully polite to me.

I'd come home after my daily rounds and throw things.

Get to bed at 11:00 and maybe get to sleep by 4:00 a.m.

I broke out in a rash over my entire body...

except my hands and my face.

Whatever it was that kept that rash

off my hands and face got me through.

Now, I've achieved a level of beloved in this parish,

a level I have basked in for...

10 years,

and for which I have never had to fight

as hard as I had to this morning.

Now, will you tell me what happened to you in that pulpit?

I can't explain it.

Well, I can. You lost control.

All right. I lost control. And I'm glad I did.

A priest is supposed to inspire control.

This morning, I felt like a priest for the first time.

We agreed on one particular sermon.

I'm telling you, I don't know what happened.

It's a mystery to me. Why can't it be a mystery to them?

Oh, Mark---

My congregation is not some primitive tribe that will watch in awe

while their priest becomes possessed.

Will you look at this? The collection went down 30%.

It is no accident that the collection comes after the sermon.

It's like a Nielsen rating.

Father, I...

I don't want to make things difficult for you here.

Let me talk to Monsignor Burke. I'll ask him to let you off the hook.

What?

Father, Mrs. Hart on line two.

Why is she calling? She didn't even go to mass.

It's about her mother.

Ginny, what happened?

I'll be right over, dear.

You come with me.

I should've seen an attack coming.

She was 78.

Her mother lived to be 89.

It was fast and merciful death. Be thankful for that.

Oh, and that hospital, and those tubes...

She looked like a trapped animal.

She would've been very sick.

Thank God it wasn't a long, drawn-out death.

Mary Figaro's mother took two years.

Two years, Ginny. Your mother wouldn't want any part of that.

When they were...

checking her in at the hospital,

they were putting a plastic identification bracelet

around her wrist.

And she said...

"I'm sorry, I can't wear this.

I only wear platinum."

You were awfully quiet.

I was listening.

You should've said something.

That's not my way. I didn't want to say, "It was merciful,"

or, "Look at Mary Figaro's mother."

Now you're gonna tell me what I did wrong?

I'm not saying you're wrong. You like to say things, I don't.

- Why not? -Because everything I think of saying sounds stupid.

But that's the whole idea. Consolation should sound stupid.

That way, a person in grief can realize how inconsolable their grief is.

Inconsolable grief puts a person in a very exalted position.

That's how most people get through tragedies.

Now, it's your responsibility as a priest

to raise common grief to the level of the inconsolable

by saying something inane.

What?

Just give it a try. Hit me with a tragedy.

Like what?

A tragedy.

Somebody comes up to you after mass and says...

Uh... "My baby died in his crib last night."

That's awful!

Is that what you'd say?

What made you think of a thing like that?

You said a tragedy. -You really get into it.

What would you say?

Well, if the mother was young, you could...

You see, if the mother was young, you could say,
"You can have another."

Like an hors d'oeuvre?

You could say he went straight to heaven.

I'd rather not say anything. Can't I just listen?

No! All right. I'll give you one.

My father beats me.

Now I'm supposed to say something inane?

Right.

Ah... Let me think.

Father beats you.

Well, you don't have any scars.

You'd never know it.

I go to school with black eyes.

- Catholic school? -What difference does that make?

They're always fighting in Catholic school, so they all have black eyes.

You must've fit right in.

My father left us.

We don't know if he's dead or alive.

That's okay. Who needs a sadist like that for a father, anyway?

My mother remarried.

I hate her new husband.

Why?

Because the Church says she can't remarry

until it's certain her first husband is dead.

That's no reason to hate him.

I cry myself to sleep because I'm sure she's going to hell.

Do you believe there's such a thing as hell?

After a while, I wouldn't speak to her.

You speak to her now, don't you?

She died.

We hadn't exchanged a word in two years.

Go on. I'm listening.

I went into the preparatory seminary when I was 13.

And I believed everything I was taught.

Followed all the rules to the letter and...

I wanted everyone to be perfect,

especially my mother.

And when I thought she wasn't, I just...

cut her off.

She'd write and call,

and I just... I wouldn't answer.

Once, I came so close.

I had the phone in my hand,

and, uh...

hung up.

Three weeks later, she was dead.

You ask me if I think there's such a thing as hell?

There are hints of it right here on earth.

Thank God you're back. Monsignor Burke is here, he's in your office.

What's he doing in my office?

Well, he said that he wanted to wait.

I don't want anybody in my office when I'm not here.

I'm sorry.

Should I leave?

No. She's making dinner for both of us.

Oh. Why don't I help her?

Yes, she'd like that. Tell her I'm sorry I snapped at her.

Hello, Tom.

I'm glad you stopped by.

Well, I felt I had to.

I was just thinking about you. We never got to
see those pictures of Yugoslavia.

- Let's do that. -Can you get a hold of Eileen?

Sure. How about Saturday?

Saturday. That's great. Yeah.

We'll talk about next summer.

Did Mark Dolson give a sermon today?

Hmm?

Yes, uh-huh, he did.

It was going to invite you but it was a last-minute--

Did he say the purpose of the Church is to become obsolete?

Yeah. I think he did say something like that,

but I am sure that he was just joking.

Did anyone laugh?

I'm sure our jobs are all safe--

I've been getting calls from your parishioners all day

asking what we're teaching at my seminary,

and now I'm asking you.

What are you teaching?

Tom! It was just one sermon.

Everyone is allowed a first sermon.

I know.

But I want to see him first thing in the morning.

Yeah. I know what he did wrong.

- I certainly know how you feel.
- I don't want to see him about that.

Well, what do you want to see him about?

I've been thinking about it.

Why do you think he defended Frank Carney
and Alfred Verossi so vehemently?

Because he felt they were entitled to...

change.

I really don't think there's anything more to it than that.

You don't?

He's always alone.

Well, I'd just like to be sure.

Certainly.

I'll send him over.

Fine. And I'll see you Saturday.

Saturday?

Oh. I was just, uh...

We'll talk during the week.

Which means that you'll be canceling.

Oh, I, uh...

I understand.

I'll see you out.

Thank you.

You two are awfully quiet.

Mmm.

Monsignor Burke wants to see you first thing in the morning.

He's upset about the sermon?

No. He said it had nothing to do with the sermon.

What does he want to see me about?

Well, he said you were too vehement

in your defense of Frank and Alfred.

And he wanted...

to speak to you about it.

Eat up. I have a dessert in the oven that's a mortal sin.

I won't go. I don't have to put up with that. I'll see the Bishop.

The Bishop? He's so paranoid about the whole thing,

he wishes all the altar boys were girls.

He's gonna let Burke do whatever he wants.

What do you think Burke will ask me?

Well, he...

He will start off politely.

Good day, Dolson.

Hello, Monsignor.

- You're late. -I am?

- Yes. -But I wouldn't be.

What's the difference? He's gonna do something annoying.

And you'll have to handle it with grace and tact.

All right. I'm late. Um...

Sorry, but I've been fasting all week and meditating every night.

So, time and space are not as clear to me--

I'd like to ask a few questions, Dolson.

My first question has to do with Frank Carney and Alfred Verossi.

He wouldn't get into that right away.

Yes, he would. He's a busy man.

If he is so busy, let him skip my interview.

All right. Okay. Have it your way.

Why...

How's your family?

Fine, thank you.

One thing I've always been curious about

in regard to your family life, Dolson,

why did you leave home at 16?

I wanted to be on my own.

But so young?

Was there something at home...

pushing you out?

I don't think I was aware of it at the time.

There was a silence in my house that...

crushed me.

There were a million things going on inside of me,

and at dinner, we only chewed and clanked.

There were times when I thought the fork would melt right in my hand.

So you left.

They let you go.

I think they were relieved.

Where did you go?

What were you asking about Frank and Alfred, Monsignor?

Well...

I was wondering why you reacted so strongly

to my suggestion they take a year off from their studies.

It was not a suggestion. You kicked them out.

All right. If you wish to be direct,

do you think that priests should be allowed to sleep together?

They weren't priests. They weren't even deacons.

Do you think such practices are easily dispensed with?

Is your question something along the lines of,

"how ya gonna keep them down on the farm after they've seen Paree?"

"Just answer my--" Just answer the man's question.

Yes! I think Frank and Alfred would've stayed
down on the farm after they'd seen Paree.

Let me put my next question in your native tongue.

Have you ever seen Paree,

and if you have seen Paree,

were they Parisiettes or Parisiens?

Both.

Really?

That's it. No more. You're shocked.

No, no. I-- I was just... I was playing Monsignor.

No, no. That was Father Farley, really.

- Both? -Yes!

Women and men.

Two sexes, Monsignor.

Before I came to the seminary,

I enrolled myself in a three-year orgy

that laid waste every fiber of my character.

Does that sound apologetic enough?

How about this?

Monsignor Burke, please understand.

I searched with my body,

and I discovered that I could never reconcile

my inner emotional world that way.

Others have, but my unique personal and human condition

called for another way.

So I invite celibacy.

I'll be happy to stay down on the farm

because it's there I'll be calm enough to help others.

And the only real joy in this world is helping other people.

I feel determined...

and perfectly prepared to become a priest.

What would he say to that?

Mark, if Monsignor Burke asks you,

you say, yes, I have made love with Parisiettes.

That's a half-truth.

Don't throw principles around now, Mark.

This is much too serious for principles.

In the larger scheme of things,

Monsignor Burke isn't that important.

The truth is! I won't become a priest on a lie.

Better that than not at all.

I can't believe you're saying this.

- I won't listen. -Wait a minute. Where are you going?

To the seminary. I'm not gonna wait till morning.

I'm gonna confront him right now.

Oh, fine. That's great. You do your martyr number.

Just leave your forwarding address.

- He can't get rid of me. -Yes, he can get rid of you, Mark!

Will you please try it my way? Be diplomatic?

Just avoid answering questions directly.

You can steer the questions.

Phrase your answers in certain ways.

You mean lie!

Even Christ said to his apostles, "Be as innocent as doves,

but as cunning as serpents." Christ said that!

Does cunning mean lying?

Oh, Mark, what...

If you can afford not to be a priest, tell the truth.

But if you want to be a priest, lie.

Mark, I didn't want this special assignment
any more than you did in the beginning,

but it's different now.

I see why you need to be a priest.

- Why? -Because you're a lunatic.

And the Church needs lunatics.

Oh, you're one of those priceless lunatics

that comes along every so often and keeps the Church alive.

But I tell you, there's a problem with lunatics.

They don't know how to survive.

I do.

Sleep on it.

Hmm?

Here.

Take my car.

Yes, Monsignor?

Right away.

He'll see you now, Deacon Dolson.

Good day, Dolson. Come in.

- Hello, Monsignor. -Please sit.

Sorry to keep you waiting.

I don't mind.

Good.

How's your family?

Fine, thank you.

Monsignor, I know what you want to know.

You do?

Yes, and I believe it's irrelevant to my vocation.

What's irrelevant to your vocation?

What you want to know.

I see.

So you're not going to tell me.

- Both. -Both?

Yes.

Both sexes...

But only before I came to the seminary.

I see.

Thank you for being so honest, Mark.

Good day.

Good day?

Yes. Good day.

Good day.

- What happened? -It was great!

What was that, Father? -I just said, that's great.

But I think I'd like to hear "Praise to the Lord" this Sunday. All verses.

"Praise to the Lord."

- What did you tell him? -Everything is fine.

Oh, God. I'm sorry that you had to lie.

- No, I didn't lie. -You didn't lie?

I told him the truth. -

- You told him the truth? -I had to.

- What do you mean you had to? -It's all right!

Did he ask about me?

Yeah. He wanted to know if you knew,

and I told him you did, but you thought it was just fine

because you're leaving Margaret for Mr. Hartigan.

Oh, Mark! Mrs. Hartigan is in the choir.

Now, will you stop it, please?

How did you tell him? You didn't antagonize him, did you?

- I mean, you were controlled? -I was confident.

Nothing is as antagonizing as confidence.

What do you want me to do? Hug myself and rock back and forth?

What did he say?

He said, "Thank you for being so honest. Good day."

"Thank you for being so honest. Good day"?

- Yeah! -That's all he said?

Isn't that great?

"Thank you for being so honest. Good day."

Why did you keep repeating what he said?

Oh, now, don't start reading into this.

I mean, why would he thank me for being so honest if he...?

I'm not gonna dissect it.

You interpret it your way, I'll int--

Look, "Thank you for being so honest, Mark. Good day."

I'm in trouble.

He's gonna get rid of me, isn't he?

[...

- Will you help me? -I can't.

- Why not? -Because you told the truth.

I'll have no influence over him now.

Well, you said the people do.

Yes, they do.

- You have influence over them. -Yes, I know I...

Can't you talk to them about this, can't you give
a sermon about it or make an appeal?

No, I can't!

Why not?

Because... he hasn't done anything yet.

He's just asked a few questions.

We both know that he will do something.

By the time he does, it'll be too late to get their help.

- Mark! -Why won't you talk to them?

Mark!

If I defended you the way you defended Frank and Alfred,

the same thing that's happened to you will happen to me.

- I see. -I want to help you.

But you can't.

You have a position.

I do. Let me explain.

You don't have to.

I understand, really.

Don't worry.

I better go.

Look, Mark...

Please, Mark.

Haven't see Mark in a few days. Are his lessons over?

You don't have to know everything that goes on in my life, Margaret.

Jesus, Mary and Joseph, I do. I want to.

Whether you know it or not, you want me to.

I like Mark, and I just pray you didn't do
something to make him disappear.

How's the pot roast?

It's delicious.

Hello, this is Father Farley.

Could I speak to Mark Dolson, please?

Thank you.

Let's face the facts.

If right now, I went to the people of my parish

and told them Monsignor Burke was about to dump you,

they'd send him thank-you notes.

But what does it matter what they think of me?
There's an issue here.

You are the issue.

You're gonna have to give another sermon to redeem yourself.

- Burke won't like that. -I'll avoid Burke for the next week.

I don't know what to say to them.

Tell them what made you decide to become a priest.

Why you want to help them. I'll pass out reaction sheets.

- Reaction sheets? -To see how effective you're being.

You've got to give them something personal and concrete,

like my street-corner sermon.

What've you got like that?

Special teacher, best friend?

No, you better stay away from best friends.

How about a favorite saint?

Or a pet?

I had a tank of tropical fish.

Someone turned up the tank heater, and they all boiled.

Oh, gee, that's very interesting.

Someday, you and I are gonna have to sit
down and relive the whole experience.

But right now, I don't think boiled fish are gonna melt their hearts.

They... They are not gonna relate to guppies.

What can they relate to?

Bingo, a car raffle?

Mark, will you please relax? Here.

Maybe we've got this problem in reverse.

Maybe it isn't so much getting the people to like you as...

What do you feel for these people

that you want help from?

- What do you feel for them? -I'm asking you.

- I can't just say what I feel. -Oh, yes, you can.

I love them.

Uh-huh? But how do you love them? Intellectually?

- No. -You really care for them?

- Yes. -They why do you offend them?

- I don't mean to. -Why do you?

I know what they could be.

Oh, Mark! What about what they are?

What are they to you?

Huh?

They're my family.

They get to me.

And I don't know how to get to them.

Show me?

St. Francis got completely undressed in the middle of his town square

and he gave all his clothes back to his father.

And then he was ready to begin.

You do the same. Just be naked.

And then talk to the people.

Talk to them as if they were one person.

Talk to them as if they were me.

I had a tank of tropical fish.

Someone turned up the tank heater.

And they all boiled.

I woke up on a Friday morning

and I went to feed them.

And there they were, all my beautiful fish...

floating on the top.

Most of them split in two.

Others with their eyes hanging out.

It looked like violence,

but it was such a quiet night.

And I remember...

wishing I had the kind of ears

that could hear fish screams.

Because they looked as if they'd suffered.

And I wanted so badly to...

to save them.

That Sunday in church,

I heard that Christ had told his apostles

to be fishers of men.

From then on,

I looked at all the people in the church as fish.

I was young, so...

I saw them as beautiful tropical fish.

So I knew...

they were all quiet screamers.

The church was so... quiet.

I thought everyone was boiling.

I wanted the kind of ears that could hear

what they were screaming about.

Because I wanted to save them.

And as I got older...

the people in the church

lost the look of tropical fish. They...

They became catfish...

To me.

Overdressed scavengers.

So I drowned out whatever I might be able to hear

and made my world... my tank...

so hot... that I almost split.

So now I'm back...

Listening.

Listening for the screams of angels.

Good morning.

Miss Barbara, what did you think?

- Oh. He's such a sweet boy. -Good.

I had a goldfish once who died from too much chlorine in the city water.

I know just how he feels.

I wrote to the city and I told them...

Oh! What a pleasant surprise.

What did you think of your brother?

- I think he's beautiful.
- Oh! Does he know you're here?

- No. -Wait around back. He'll be right out.

Mr. Jennings.

I didn't have a pencil or a pen,

so I couldn't write down what I thought of the sermon.

But I'll tell you what I would have written if I did have a pen or a pencil.

Uh-huh?

We have no choice but to be catfish

with garbage like that being thrown at us.

That's all I have to say. Come, dear.

Where were you last night?

- Tom! -Eileen and I waited two hours.

Uh...

You don't even bother calling. Now I can
see why you were so careful not to.

We have to talk now.

Oh, I have a baptism in about three seconds, Tom,

then I have a wedding rehearsal. Then--

Then make sure you call me today.

Yes.

What did you think?

Everything is fine. You were great.

What about the reactions?

- We'll deal with that tomorrow. -Why not now?

Uh! Your sister's waiting for you.

Liz is here?

She's out back. She's waiting for you.
She thought you were beautiful.

- Why don't you both go for a ride? -But, Father!

You've gone through enough for today. I just want you to relax.

I'll deal with these, then we'll talk.
I won't need the car till tomorrow.

Oh, Mark, it was an amazing sermon.

Oh, Mark! Thank God you're here.

You're the only one I could think to call.

He didn't eat a thing since mass yesterday. He won't come out.

And Monsignor Burke has been calling and calling.

I told him I didn't see the car out front.

Is that a lie?

I think I'm losing my mind.

It's all right, Margaret. Take it easy.

- Breathe through your nose.
- What's that supposed to mean?

It'll calm you down. I'll handle this.

Father, it's Mark. Would you let me in?

Mark, Mark, Mark.

Well, Mark. We've got loads of reactions.

Isn't it a little early to be drinking?

It's just wine.

Making wine was Christ's first miracle.

- He knew what he was doing. -Did you have breakfast?

Never mind about that. You gotta hear these reactions first.

- You sure you're all right? -I'm fine. I'm just... Oh!

We had only one really bad reaction,

but that was from Jennings.

Jennings is a jerk, so don't worry about him.

Wait till you hear these. Oh, yuk.

"Dear Father--" Ha! "Dear Father Farley,

he shows unusual sensitivity.

It is very exciting to watch such a change.

You are doing good work."

I wrote that.

No, I'm only kidding. That's from one of the parishioners.

Where did it go?

Oh, wait! Let me get this one.

I really shouldn't even read you this one. Listen.

"Dear Father, don't take this the wrong way,

but Mark Dolson is just great.

Can he give sermons every Sunday?"

What's it all mean?

It means there's hope. They're beginning to love you.

What do we do next?

Before we do anything, I'm gonna call
Jennings and tell him what a jerk he is.

Father, no!

Oh! He pisses me off.

- You shouldn't talk to anyone. -Just a minute! I'm fine!

- You can call him in the morning. -It's my phone!

I've wanted to do that for years.

Let's drink to it.

Can I see you for a minute?

Ah, I'll be right back.

Good. Then we'll break some more things.

What is he breaking? Is he breaking things?

It's all right.

Monsignor Burke is here.

Oh, no!

He's waiting to see...

What are we going to do?

Now, stay calm.

If Monsignor Burke sees him--

He won't. He can't. You go in and you keep Father occupied.

What are you going to do?

I'm not sure yet. Just keep him in his office.

Keep him in his office?

I haven't been able to get him out of his office.

Hello, Monsignor.

Hello. Where's Father Farley?

He's not feeling well.

So then why are you here?

We've been meeting more often lately.

Is that why he's not feeling well?

I didn't get a chance during our last meeting--

Why did you give a sermon yesterday?

I was hoping to make up for the one I'd given earlier.

Most of the people I spoke with thought it was somewhat inane.

- I was only trying to say-- -I thought it was inane.

I was trying to say what I felt.

You love to say what you feel.

Usually, what you feel has nothing to
do with the Roman Catholic Church.

The Church as you see it.

As most of us see it.

I've decided you shouldn't waste any more of your time

pursuing a vocation as a priest.

I'll give you a week to get your things in order,

then I think it'd be best if you left St. Francis Seminary.

- Confession. -You don't need to go to confession.

But I do. I think I lied.

What do you mean you think you lied?

You'd know if you told a lie.

You're an expert. So am I. Who did you think you lied to?

Monsignor Burke.

Is he here? Huh, is he?

Please don't ask me that.

- Where is he? Is Mark with him? -Please, Father.

- Don't let Monsignor Burke see you like---That's it! I'll...

God forgive me for saying this,

but it's not even noon and you're drunk!

Margaret, you don't understand. I am not your typical drunk.

I am at my best when I am drunk.

I think more clearly and speak more clearly.

My vocabulary is better.

I think what you're doing to me is a sin.

Really? Have you rewritten the Commandments
as well as the Gospels?

You will have Father Farley call me when he's better.

- Yes. -Hello, Tom.

Nobody here seems to know where or how you are.

Well, I'm here and I'm fine. How are you?

I'm angry. He should not have given a sermon.

Let's calm down, Tom.

After all, I can do what I want in my parish.

And you do, but I think a sermon about poached fish,
even for you, is going overboard.

I thought it was a damn good sermon.

I want him to give as many sermons as he can.

Maybe you can't see it but I can. Mark is
going to be a very important priest.

He's not going to be a priest at all.

- You're actually gonna do it? -It's done.

Oh, you're making a big mistake.

We have enough priests in the Church already

who are either in the closet, or worse yet, out of the closet,

and continue to be priests.

This one was out, and now he's back in. I don't believe it!

You're being ridiculous! You're just...

You're using...

The boy made a decision to be celibate.

Celibacy is celibacy, even if your thing is goats.

What?

Goats.

I tell you that he will keep his vows.

- Are you keeping yours? -Monsignor! That's--

No, no, no.

There are limits, Tom. I'm not gonna be threatened.

And I tell you that until I hear from an appropriate authority,

this is my parish!

If I decide that that boy is gonna give a sermon,

that is what he's going to do!

If I decide that I will give a sermon
about Mark, that is what I will do.

And I will not be intimidated by your Gestapo tactics!

I think you ought to leave, Tom.

And another thing!

I had a lousy time in Yugoslavia.

- You all right? -I'll do it.

- What? -I'll make an appeal for you.

- This Sunday. -You don't mean it. It's the wine.

It's not the wine!

I'm cashing in my popularity stock for power.

My people will flood him with letters and phone calls.

What if they don't, what if it doesn't work?

He'll do everything he can to see that I'm in Iowa by Tuesday.

But my people won't let me down.

- Are you sure? -I'm positive.

Before I read the gospel,

I have something special to ask you.

We know there are all forms of persecution in this world.

If we watch the 7:00 news for one week,
we'd be sure to see most of them.

But what about the ones that occur right here in this town?

Here in this parish?

Ones we could do something about?

Let's just think of a time when we thought someone was being persecuted

for their race or their religion,

or their past.

Let's just think of how we've responded.

I realize in some cases, there's just so much you can do.

But did we do that?

Let's just think.

I don't want you to be too hard on yourselves.

And I'm not trying to impose a sense of guilt on all of us.

We're trying to get away from that sort of thing in the Church.

But nevertheless, still,

we should be aware of...

We should take the time to...

For example, let's take Mark Dolson.

Now, Mark is being persecuted,

and he needs our help.

Well, perhaps "persecuted" is too strong a...

He is experiencing difficulty at St. Francis Seminary

uh... with the higher-ups because...

he's young.

That's natural. Age has a natural resentment of youth.

It just seems to happen.

So...

Some of us might say that...

Mark can take care of himself.

Well, that's true.

Others might say that Mark asks for trouble.

That is...

true, also.

So, we might say

Mark doesn't need our help.

Then who does...

need our help?

Many of you may not know this,

but when I was young, my father beat me regularly.

I mean he sent me literally flying across rooms.

That is persecution.

That is something we should all watch out for.

So if any of us know of a child who is being abused,

don't be afraid to act.

You call the county task force at 555-3095.

Gospel according to John.

- I'm just gonna bring it in. -I'll have it here.

I have to mop the floor in here.

I'll just put it on your desk.

Come in.

- Hi. -Hi.

I just thought I'd drop by...

Say goodbye?

Where will you go?

I have some ideas.

I'm sorry I got your hopes up, but I was wrong about them.

I could see it in their faces. They would have let me go.

Mark, you must understand.

Whatever I said I would do

was above and beyond the call of duty.

I understand.

No, I don't think you do.

This is my home, Mark. The people know me.

They know my favorite color,

what kind of sweaters I like, my favorite wine.

You know what a small town in Iowa is like?

Maybe there's a main street.

If they have a theater, they only run chainsaw movies.

They'd never understand my humor, Mark.

They wouldn't even talk to me.

Now, I have to talk to my people.

Then why don't you?

I do.

I better get back.

If I can help you find a job...

If you ever need any recommendations, just...

let me know.

I have a counseling appointment before my 5:20 mass.

- No, you don't. -What?

You don't have an appointment.

- You're saying I'm lying? -Yes.

- Why would I lie about a thing like that? -I don't know why you lie.

I can just tell when you do.

- Well, I have to go. -It's all right, huh?

They're all harmless lies.

You only do it to spare other people's feelings, right?

Will you please let me pass, Mark?

Whether or not you believe it, I have an appointment.

- And I have to---An appointment? Really?

Which human condition is it today?

A divorce? An abortion? Or an identity crisis?

That is none of your business!

Why don't you give a break to whoever it is and cancel?

Mark, I know you feel you have a right to be angry.

- I am not angry with you. -Yes, you are angry.

You think that I've betrayed you.

Whatever you did or didn't do for me doesn't matter now.

I believed you because I needed to believe you. I set myself up.

That's not your fault.

But the people who come to you for help deserve more.

Don't you worry about the people coming to me for help.

They are taken care of.

You handle them the way you handled me.

You'll say anything, doesn't matter if it's true,

to keep a person in need off your back.

They come to you thinking they're being helped!

When all they're doing is pouring their guts out

to a drunk who pretends he's a priest!

Oh!

Oh, no!

I think I broke my wrist.

- Sorry. -It's broken.

I know. I can tell.

- It bent backwards. -Let me see.

Don't touch the wrist!

You don't know how to punch?

I never had reason to before.

- Oh! -Maybe it's sprained.

Well... Twirl it around.

Twirl it around like this.

- What? -Come on. Higher.

What is that supposed to do?

Well, it's for the...

Uh... It's supposed to...

- I don't know. -You don't know?

- No. -And we're...

And we're...

Mark, I tried.

God, I wanted to help you so much,

but...

I need them.

I understand.

I really do.

During those three years, whenever, uh...

whenever someone I loved loved me,

I did everything I could to keep it constant.

[...

Bit by bit, I learned all the rules.

What to say and what to give. What to withhold.

So I could keep that love constant.

And to go through all that,

to worry about who's got the upper hand,

or who's gonna change first, made the love worthless.

I found out that the constant is up to me.

Promises are broken.

Friends will be fickle.

Love goes its own course.

And all of it has to finally not matter.

And what you believe...

has got to be more important

than what your congregation thinks of you.

I'm not sure what I believe anymore.

Can you get me to my 5:20 mass?

I don't think I can drive.

What will you do?

I'll be fine.

Where will you go?

Somewhere.

There must be a seminary that won't need a recommendation

from Monsignor Burke.

Maybe Iowa.

I'll be all right.

Do you know when Christ sent his apostles out into the world,

he sent them in twos.

I think I know why he did that now.

Take care.

In the name of the Father,

and the Son, and of the Holy Spirit,

amen.

Before we begin this mass,

let us all make an examination of conscience,

calling to mind all our sins,

including...

sins of omission.

[...

I can't do this anymore.

Uh... Please, sit.

Please.

I have baptized you, and I have counseled you,

I've married you...

and I've buried you.

But I never really...

cared enough to run the risk of losing you.

That is my sin of omission.

Monsignor Burke has expelled Mark Dolson

from St. Francis Seminary and barred him from the priesthood.

And I want us to fight that decision.

Right now, without being ordained,

Mark Dolson is a better priest than I am.

He's taught me how to try to be a priest.

Monsignor Burke says that he expelled Mark

because of his past. I don't believe that.

He expelled Mark Dolson because Mark did not fit

into Monsignor Burke's picture of what the Church should be.

But this is not only Monsignor Burke's church.

This is our church, and we must fight for it!

You and I and Mark must be allowed...

must be allowed to help shape the thing that has shaped us,

you see.

Up till now...

my need for your love has kept me silent,

inactive.

This is the first time I've ever said what I wanted to you.

Only now is love possible.

Oh...

It's up to you.

Let us begin.

Oh...

Yes, by the way, if you don't see me up here next week,

I'll probably be in Iowa.

Iowa?

Let us pray.

I confess to almighty God,

and to you, my brothers and sisters,

that I have sinned through my own faults,

in my thoughts, in my words, in what I've done,

and what I have failed.

I ask blessed Mary, forever virtuous,

to cure the aches and sickness in you.

My brothers and sisters,

pray with me to the Lord above...