Well, Koesler thought, at least I can start from scratch. The fact that Keller had treated a couple of well-meaning people like trash had absolutely no bearing on the legitimacy of their case.
“We thought,” Frank said, “that it might be very simple. I’m not a Catholic-nor was my first wife a Catholic. Just a couple of people not even married by a minister; we had a justice of the peace. We-Martha and I-figured the Catholic Church wasn’t concerned about a marriage that had absolutely nothing to do with the Church.”
Koesler shook his head slowly. “That’s not the way it works, Frank.”
“Well,” Frank said, “at least we’re making progress. Right about here was where Father Keller threw us out.”
They all laughed. It eased some of the tension.
“We go to church regularly,” Martha said. “Sundays and Holy Days. When Father Keller sees us, he sort of curls his lip. But at least he doesn’t tell us to get out.”
“That’s because he doesn’t tell us anything,” Frank added.
Martha seemed suddenly apprehensive. “This won’t cause a problem, will it?”
“What sort of problem?”
“Well, a problem for you. Will you get in trouble because you’re taking care of us? I’m kind of worried that Father Keller will be upset.”
“No, that won’t happen,” Koesler stated firmly. “It wouldn’t happen in any case. But especially since you did see him and he refused to even consider your case.”
Privately, Koesler mused about how wonderful it would be to wrap up this package and toss it back to Keller. If this couple’s marriage could be convalidated with Koesler’s guidance and help, it would be worth the price of admission to see Keller’s face when he inevitably found out what had happened.
Koesler pushed aside a mess of papers-notes, mail, and the like-from the center of his small desk. He picked up a pen and pulled a yellow legal pad toward him, looked at Frank and Martha, and said in an upbeat tone, “Well, let’s see what we’ve got …”
The Morrises inched their chairs closer to the desk.
“A little while ago,” Koesler addressed Frank, “you said you thought that since the Catholic Church was not involved with your first marriage, that the Church would not recognize that marriage. Actually, the opposite is true: The Catholic Church actually recognizes any legal marriage ceremony as being valid.”
Frank look amazed. “That’s rather open-minded of the Church.”
“But it doesn’t work to your advantage, Frank.”
“How’s that?”
“Take your first marriage. The Church accepts that ceremony, no matter how it was performed-as long as whoever performed it was recognized by the state of Michigan-as a valid-real-marriage. That means that, in the eyes of the Church, before you can marry again you must prove that the first marriage is null. That for some specific reason-and there are only a few reasons the Church will consider-an impediment-a block-obstructed the validity of that marriage.”
“These ‘specific reasons,’ Father: What are they?” Martha asked.
“First, Martha: Are you sure you want to sit in on this?” Koesler asked. “It can get a bit … personal.”
“I want to be here.”
“I want her here,” Frank affirmed.
“Okay.” Koesler nodded. “Now, a lot of these impediments are quite obviously not applicable here. Holy Orders, for instance, is a serious impediment.”
“You mean-” Martha began.
“That because I am a priest, I may not marry. But …” He thought for a moment. “Okay, maybe I can explain it this way: Suppose I get married. And suppose later on, I get divorced. After which, my ex-wife wants to marry someone else in a Catholic ceremony. The Church starts out by presuming that a marriage exists. Now, my ex-wife has to prove to the Church’s satisfaction that our union-well, that it was not a marriage-in other words, that no marriage existed. So she proves that at the time of our marriage ceremony, I was a priest. The Church would immediately grant her an annulment. Because in the eyes of the Church, there was no marriage between me and that woman-because, as a priest validly ordained by the Catholic Church, I am not, in the eyes of that Church, allowed to marry. Therefore, she, in effect, never married, so she is free to marry.
“Now, that’s what we want to find in your marriage to-what is her name?”
“Mildred. Do you need her maiden name?”
“No …” Koesler smiled. “I was just getting tired of referring to her as ‘that woman.’”
Koesler then began to tick off various possible impediments: consanguinity-if she were a close relative; if she refused to have children; if she were previously married; etc.
It reminded Frank of the questions asked before some medical procedure. Have you ever had mumps, measles, whooping cough, etc.?
To both series of questions, Frank’s answer would be, No. He’d had-oddly-no childhood diseases, nor had his first marriage involved any of the possible impediments Koesler mentioned. “No,” he said aloud.
Questionnaire concluded, Koesler said, “I was afraid of that.” Noting their disappointment, he added, “But we’re not done.
“Frank, what was there about your marriage to Mildred that didn’t work? In your own words, what made the marriage fail?”
“That’s a pretty big question, Father.” He thought for some time. Finally, he said, “Incompatibility … incompatibility that started early on and just got worse. We were great in bed”-his face reddened but he went on-“but after that, in just about everything else, the two of us could have been living on different planets.”
“Did you have any children?”
“No. Neither of us wanted kids. The way things turned out it was a lucky break we didn’t have any-say, Father: Could that be one of those impediments? I know the Church doesn’t look too kindly on birth control …”
“’Fraid not, Frank. Now, was there anything the two of you differed on or argued about a lot?”
Frank pondered. “Seems religion came up every so often,” he said slowly.
“Religion? What about religion?”
“Mildred was Lutheran. She was pretty strong about it. She was always after me to join her church. She was really sore because I refused to be baptized-”
“Wait a minute …” Koesler sat up straight. “She wanted you to be rebaptized in the Lutheran Church?”
“Rebaptized? No. I was never baptized at all.”
“How can you be so sure?”
“Because my dad and mother told me more than once. They said they wanted that kind of choice to be all mine. They left the whole thing about religion and baptism up to me.” Frank chuckled. “As it turns out, I didn’t do anything about either one. I didn’t want to join the Lutheran Church. And I couldn’t see getting baptized if I wasn’t going to join.”
“But you go to church all the time now …”
“Well, see, as incompatible as I was with Mildred that’s how compatible I am with Marty. I would’ve joined the Catholic Church and gotten baptized long ago, but Father Keller wasn’t in much of a receptive attitude.”
“To give the devil his due,” Koesler said, “Father Keller didn’t have much of a choice there. He couldn’t receive you into the Catholic Church until or unless you got your present marriage validated.”
“You mean this ‘living in sin’ bit?” Bitterness tinged Frank’s voice.
“That’s an unfortunate label,” Koesler said. “No one can crawl inside you and know what’s going on in your conscience. Your life of sin or grace is yours-and yours alone-to know.
“But so much for the internal forum-your soul. What we’re talking about is the external forum: whether or not we can baptize you and convalidate your marriage. And I think you have just uncovered maybe the only path to doing just that.”
Smiles all around.
“How? How, Father?” Martha asked. “We’ll do anything!”
“I’ve got to tell you right off,” Koesler said, “it’s a slim chance. I studied it in the seminary-not all that long ago-but I’ve never used it. Never thought I would.”