20 / CHRONICLESnis apparently sorry. As a parochialnschool student, a young Andy wasn”obnoxious” about displaying his intelligence;nbut darned if he wasn’t “toonbehaved” to permit himself the pleasurenof tormenting his teachers. Thosensame teachers, we soon learn, werenunder no similar psychological restrictions.nGreeley’s father, the son records,ntried to teach his sole malenoilspring just how to handle allnwomen. Nuns, however, remained anbreed apart to the son as son—or asnadult. In the lower grades, an obnoxiouslynwell-behaved(?) Andy Greeleynwas rapped with a ruler by a nun onnthe lookout for poor pencil posture. Tonthis day. Father Greeley (a) hasn’tnforgotten; (b) remains ill at ease amongnnuns; and (c) sheds few tears over thenslow death of women’s religious orders.nOne wonders what his penmanshipnis like.nLife under the rule(rs) of nuns alsongave Andy the acolyte his first objectnlesson in living with the “active dislike”nof others. He’s still learning. As anyoungster, he was “naive” when itncame to understanding how his teachersndealt with “strange, bright students.”nAs an adult, he claims not tonmind criticism directed at a strange,nbright priest. If that be the case, thisnbook could have been significantlynshortened.nThere are still those who activelyndislike this priest who has designatednhis mailbox as his parish. And henknows it—and remembers—and responds.nAd nauseam. Blue-nosednlaity, envious clergy, and ignorant, ifnnot lunatic, prelates are his tormentors—andntargets.nHappily, for Greeley, the bluenosednlaity constitute a distinct minority.nOnly 11 percent of the readers ofnGreeley, the novelist, labeled asn”steamy” that which they had read,naccording to Greeley the sociologist.nUnhappily, for Greeley, the probablen(though apparently unquantifiable)nmajority of his fellow clerics languishnin ignorance and envy. Why so many?nThe seminaries breed mediocrities,nand the priesthood offers a “limitednreward structure.” And Greeley himself?nIt seems that Greeley, the seminarian,nmagically avoided ignorancenby reading what he wanted to read,nwhile Greeley, the priest, has magicallyncreated his own reward structure bynwriting that which he wishes to write.nThroughout the book there is thencavalier attitude that demands: “Greeley,nlove me or leave me.” Or queries:n”If I love myself, why doesn’t everyonenlove me?” His insistence that seminariesnhave no right to control the personalnlives of their subjects and his refusalnto submit to Gardinal Bernardin’s bannon novel-writing as a condition of hisnreturn to parish work in Chicago arenboth of a piece.nThroughout his travails Greeleyngrins his impish Irish grin, concedingnonly that he harbors a “fierce Irishntemper” and an “ingenious Irishntongue.” Is he angry? He protests not.nBut he protests too much. Anger, henexplains, serves “no useful purpose.”nBut since when did someone in fullnpossession of a “fierce Irish temper”nstop to ponder the uses and abuses ofnanger? Father Greeley might respond:nAnger I have expressed, but angry I amnnot. Perhaps, but methinks he stillnprotests too much.nHis greater failings, he insists, are antrusting nature, a too readily expressednwillingness to reconcile with his enemies,nand a penchant for avoidingnconfrontation. Prince Andrew thenPOETRY OURNALnEdited by Jane Greer. Traditional poetic conventions used in vigorous,ncompelling new works. Heartening manifesto for SASE. $3.50/sample.nPlains Poetry Journal, P.O. Box 2337, Bismarck, ND 58502nnnPussycat? Ask Cardinal Bernardin. Innthe midst of a nonconfrontation withnthe “most interpersonally sensitivenman I’ve ever met,” Father Greeleynshouted at his superior for a “solidnhour” over the telephone. Bernardinn”spoke not a single angry word innreturn.” The issue was the cardinal’snpeculiarly shortsighted request that hisndiocesan priest cease authoring titillatingnstories if he truly wished to functionnas a parish priest in the ChicagonArchdiocese. Greeley hastens to addnthat he called Bernardin the very nextnday to apologize—before hastening tonadd that he was sorry for his ill-tempernbut “not for the substance of my complaints.”nAnother “five Our Father andnfive Hail Mary” job.nA self-confessed “localist,” Greeleynhas banished himself from his locale,nChicago, in order to preserve his freedomnto write his “comedies of grace.”nIt doesn’t wash. Nor does his flirtationnwith martyrdom. A committed localistnwould readily surrender much more tonremain among his people and on hisnturf And a convincing martyr wouldnnot likely be found water-skiing in SunnCountry.nThat Father Greeley loves Chicagonand Chicago’s Irish I do not doubt. HisnDepression-era memories of his family’sntenuous hold on the middle classnare deeply etched in mind and print.nHis affection for family and parish isnno less genuine. His parents were solidnNew Deal Democrats who practicednethnic liberalism before sociologistsncould so label it or historians decree itsnpassing. They also taught him to be anrisk-taker who would win approval fornattempts, not successes, and whonwould be “free of envy of the excellencenof others.” The first lesson hasnbeen thoroughly learned. The secondnhas not.nA younger Andrew Greeley wasnready to pick up his pen at the drop ofnhis breviary. An older Andrew Greeleynwill embrace his word processor at thendrop of a water ski. Any risk to rushninto print is worth it. The result, by hisnown admission, is impressive. Askedn(by himself) to list his most significantnworks, he counts not one, not two, butn21 book-length publications. WhethernAndrew Greeley has ever had an unpublishednthought only Andrew Greeleynknows for sure. That he thinksnhighly of his published thoughts isn