Chapter Seven

Tepid

Maximilian Urban Leinfeld was stuck with an ethnic name in a neighborhood dominated by more Anglo-Saxon surnames. Growing up with Smiths, Morgans, Howards, Millers, Malones, having given names like Michael, David, Robert, John and nicknames like Mike, Dave, Bob and Jack was tough for Maximilian. Or at least he thought so. Perhaps the only saving grace, to him, was that some of his classmates at Sacred Heart called him Max. Max had a certain ring. He would always introduce himself to strangers as Max, even though at home he was still Maximilian. As for Urban, well, he would never reveal that to anyone. Unfortunately for him, his full moniker was on the nun’s attendance book and she would often use it, fully, in calling roll. So Urban was a secret that could not be kept. There seemed to be but one ray of hope for Max ---- girls seemed to ignore the shame he perceived in having such a name.
Max had a normal appreciation for girls as he grew up. He admired what smart alecks attributed in fake French accents to la difference. But he seemed to see girls as fellow human beings – maybe because of his sisters – when his peers treated them as objects of desire. Max, then, was somewhat different in his feelings about the opposite sex than his male counterparts. His name, his approach to girls and his lack of athletic abilities, at least in his mind, set Max apart from the other guys. His outsider outlook didn’t damage him psychologically, but it didn’t particularly help, either. In reality, he was tolerated by his popular classmates and by those who were less than popular; he was neither hot nor cold, but lukewarm enough to avoid rejection while missing the self-satisfaction of full acceptance. Max decided he would just have to live with the situation, and himself.
He thought of himself as standing apart from society while admitting he’d like to be part of it. His self image was somewhat shaky. He judged that others could not detect his real feelings and they did not care one way or the other. In sum, he figured, that was pretty much reality for everyone. Ambiguity was his measure of life.
Max and a handful of his male classmates served Mass at Sacred Heart. He had little trouble memorizing the Latin responses required of acolytes. Because a server was required at all Masses, Max and his fellow servers got up early once or twice a week and always had a Sunday assignment. While in grade school Max became intrigued with the priests he served. For the most part he admired them. Their relations were friendly yet reserved. Priests’ lifestyle, as far as he could perceive, was attractive. They spoke in public, tried to persuade their congregants, got respect, and lived a simple but quiet life. Max thought little of what the Church said was the most important and sacred act their performed at Mass, the Eucharist. Maybe he should become a priest?
When time came to selecting a high school Max decided on St. John Vianney Preparatory School, the diocesan junior seminary, although it did accept students other than those interested in the priesthood. His grades were good enough, and he began his studies that September. His nun teachers were good enough that Max was able to take on his new curriculum that had no electives. Four years of math, English, history, science, Latin and religion. Oh yes, and Greek in the last two years. For prospective priests is was required preparation; for young men wishing to pursue a traditional profession the course of study probably was more helpful than that being taught in public high schools.
Max did well academically at St. John’s, not at the head of his class but near the top. He tried out for all the sports – only football, basketball and baseball at St. John’s – but made no team. He graduated, and moved into the seminary. He registered for selective service, but was not drafted because he was classified as IV-D (divinity student). Max felt some guilt for not serving his country, but the law was written to make such a deferment honorable. Nonetheless, he felt uncomfortable when going downtown on his free afternoon with other seminarians dressed in black suits and black ties with their white shirts. By the time he was required in wear a clerical collar in public, the war was over.
Major seminary was more difficult but more interesting than the previous years. Although classes and examinations were conducted in Latin, Max was proficient enough to achieve passing grades. Classes in moral theology were especially fascinating. He would need that knowledge of human virtue and fragility to hear confessions later on. Other branches of theology were classes to get through, much as he found philosophy in his undergraduate studies. When came to rubrics and religious formation Max was below average especially in application. Only his spiritual director knew, and perhaps, that priest was not as sure as he might be about the state of Max’s soul, as much as any human might be sure.
Ordination to the diaconate was a major milepost. His parents were in the cathedral for the ceremony. Heinrich Leinfeld was proud of his son, although early on he wondered whether his boy might be better counseled to become the first lawyer in the family. Hilda Leinfeld was most proud of her son; the boy for whom she had prayed would become a priest. As he entered that last year before ordination to the priesthood, Max became more introspective.
Max and his fellow priests-to-be were charged with praying the breviary each day, a clerical requirement that took at least an hour. Some were spiritually recharged with the ecclesiastical assignment, other found it a chore. For Max, it was something in between. One day the readings included the Lord’s admonition that hot and cold were, in some sense, understandable, but be lukewarm and “I will vomit thee out of my mouth.”

The Maplewood HERALD carried this obituary, that April day.
One of Maplewood’s leading attorneys, Max Leinfeld, died yesterday at Mount Carmel Hospital. He was 86. The cause of death was not immediately announced.
Mr. Leinfeld was an assistant attorney general in the administration of President Hiram Finster. Before that he had served as Ohio attorney general where he gained a national reputation for enforcing state consumer protection laws. With the inauguration of a new administration, Mr. Leinfeld began private practice in northern Virginia, where he made his home.
Before his election to state office, Mr. Leinfeld practiced family and domestic law. He made a reputation seeking reconciliation between parties seeking divorces. He also was sought out by separated parents in child custody matters. Personal bankruptcy was one of his specialties, a skill that developed from his family practice.
Maximilian Urban Leinfeld was born Aug. 17, 1924 in Hollyville, Ohio, a suburb of Akron. He was the son of a German immigrant who was a die cutter in a local factory. After high school Mr. Leinfeld, who never used his full name professionally, attended The Josephinum Seminary in Ohio. He also was a graduate of the Ohio State University Law School.
A consultant to the local bishop, Mr. Leinfeld helped organize a support group for divorced Catholic women to aid them in rearing their children and obtaining alimony. He was a fourth degree member of the Knights of Columbus.
The Rev. Christopher Utermolen, Max Leinfeld’s pastor at St. Matthias Church, noted that he had both a wonderful memory and sense of humor. He, the priest said, was master of ceremonies at the parish’s annual volunteer appreciation dinner. Mr. Leinfeld served on the parish counsel for 15 years, five as chairman.
His wife of 47 years, Agnes (nee) Gallagher, died three years ago. He is survived by 11 children, 14 grandchildren and three great-grandchildren.

Max was relieved when the pre-ordination retreat ended. It had been a week of wrenching soul searching for him. He had reflected on his whole life up until then, but that reflection came in flashes of unpleasant intervals --- failures in athletics, grades that could have been better, disagreements with his parents, introspection of friendship or more accurately acquaintances, a little better than mediocre facility with Latin, a less than enthusiastic appreciation of theology, a prayer life better suited to a good layman than a priest-to-be. He realized he was neither a bad person nor a bad seminarian, but could he face a life of sacrifice for the Church and for others? He just did not know. His relief with the end of the retreat really centered on the end of silence. His general confession -- which covered his entire life in preparation for ordination as a priest -- to his spiritual director was an ordeal. That was especially so because he actually withheld his second thoughts about going through with the ceremony.
As the hours before he and the other ordinates were to go to the cathedral dwindled away, his doubts became stronger and stronger. He had heard of the priests who were beginning to seek lay status, or even worse, just left without ecclesial sanction, he knew he didn’t not to be such in the future. He knew, too, that he was down deep a Catholic even though right now he was on edge.
He went to his spiritual director.
Reluctantly the bishop gave his consent for Max to withdraw. At the cathedral last minute changes had to made in the ceremony. Even an errata sheet had to be prepared for the program.
Max now had to turn to the hardest matter of all. Telephoning his parents, who had already packed their bags for a trip to the ceremony, was more difficult than pulling out the day before his ordination. He had been lukewarm about the clerical life before him.
When he got off the phone he puked.