8
“It’s called the Pauline Privilege,” Father Koesler informed the rapt couple. He smiled. “I’ll try to explain it as briefly as possible,” he said, as he turned to search through the volumes on the shelves behind him.
The Bible, the Code of Canon Law, a book on moral theology-he consulted each cursorily, then turned back to his visitors. “This whole notion is based on St. Paul’s first letter to the Corinthians-the seventh chapter.” He half smiled at some private joke. “For one who never married, Paul had an awful lot to say about marriage and to married people.”
Koesler did not reflect that in this he was in the same boat as St. Paul.
“One of the questions for the early Church to settle was how to relate to non-Christians,” Koesler explained. “Christians were a tiny minority surrounded by a world where religion was a mixed bag. Polytheists and pantheists could count their gods-and atheists had no god.
“And all the earliest Christians were Jews, of course. So the Apostles had to lead their disciples through the rough waters of controversy.
“While the first Christians were Jewish in nationality, they were no longer Jews as a religious body. So, controversies raged over which Jewish laws should be preserved and which should be abandoned in this new religion. Customs-laws, as far as the Jews were concerned-like circumcision and dietary proscriptions-were wrangled over and, eventually, pretty much abandoned.
“One of the touchiest situations was intermarriage between Christians and non-Christians. And a companion problem was how to treat a mixed religious marriage that ended in divorce.
“Following the dictates of Jesus-and with no time yet for theological development-marriage for Christians was monogamous and lifelong.
“Now: Was there a distinction to be drawn when a non-Christian permanently left his or her Christian partner?
“St. Paul, in his letter to the Corinthians, considers the plight of a Christian whose non-Christian partner leaves. As fate has it, this Christian falls in love again. Oddly, again, the loved one is non-Christian. But this non-Christian wishes to become Christian and marry.
“Paul grants the request as a ‘Privilege of the Faith.’
“Here, for the first time, we are not talking about an annulment. This one is called a dissolution.”
Frank and Martha were listening-hard. But Father Koesler realized that although they were taking in his words, a good deal of explanation was still necessary, particularly for Frank, the non-Catholic in this affair.
“You see, Frank, as far as the Catholic Church is concerned, you and Mildred had a valid but not sacramental marriage. Now, ordinarily, you’d think of a priest as the minister of sacraments. But not the sacrament of matrimony: The bride gives the sacrament to the groom and vice versa. The priest, in this case, is an official witness.
“Now, in your case there was no sacrament because you were never baptized-and one has to be baptized in order to give or receive a sacrament.
“So, if this case plays out the way we want, you and Martha could be married in the Catholic Church. You would be baptized and then when you give your consent in marriage, your first marriage would be dissolved as a ‘Privilege of the Faith.’”
“But … but that’s wonderful!” Martha was almost breathless and enthused at the same time. “When can we do this-when can we get married in the Church?”
“Not so fast, Marty,” Frank cautioned. “There’s more to this than meets the eye …” He turned back to Koesler. “… ain’t there, Father?”
“I’m afraid so. Yes.”
“What? What?” Martha’s enthusiasm plummeted.
“It’s in the proof,” Koesler said. He looked at Frank. “You’ve got to prove that you never were baptized.”
“How do you prove something never happened?” Frank asked.
“Exactly,” Koesler responded. “If you-yes, you, Frank”-Koesler nodded-”if you were to take a baby into a baptistery and baptize that baby, that baby would be validly baptized. Yes …” He nodded again, anticipating Frank’s question. “… in the eyes of the Catholic Church, the baptism would be valid whether the baby was baptized in a Methodist church, a Lutheran church-or a bowl of water in the kitchen. For baptism, the ordinary minister of the sacrament is a priest. But for validity, anyone with the correct intention can baptize.
“So you see the problem when we allege that you never were baptized, Frank. What if when you were a baby, a kindly uncle-aunt, grandfather, whatever-took you to … anywhere there was water-”
“When you put it that way, Father,” Martha said, “it seems quite impossible to prove that Frank’s never been baptized.”
“Well, it’s not quite that comprehensively difficult.” Koesler smiled at Martha, then turned to Frank again. “What we need are witnesses-lots of extremely credible witnesses-to testify that the attitude of just about everyone who touched your young life was that your parents’ prohibition of baptism was well known and observed by everyone. Now you yourself can testify about the years after you reached the age of reason. But even then we need witnesses for those years too.
“You see, Frank … Martha …” he addressed both, “what we must build up is an overwhelming flood of similar testimony that affirms that Frank was most unlikely ever to have been baptized.
“So, actually getting this ‘Privilege of the Faith’ is most difficult. But not impossible. Such dissolutions have been granted in the past-and, undoubtedly, will be in future. What we don’t know is whether we can get it for you.”
“Well,” Frank said, after a lengthy pause, “how do we get started, Father?”
Koesler rubbed his hands together. “Okay. I’ll take you through this chronologically. But remember”-he looked at each of them in turn-“if you find any of this procedure impossible-for any reason-say so now. I’ll tell you everything that will be required … and I won’t pull any punches.”
Both his listeners nodded.
“First off, we go through a standard series of instructions in Catholic beliefs and practices.”
“How long will that take?” Frank asked.
“Depends. Three or four months, usually-at one appointment a week.”
“Can we go at it more often than once a week?”
“If you want to.” Koesler could understand Frank’s wanting to speed up the process. The sooner the instructions were completed, the sooner they could go on to the next step.
But the priest would have to be careful lest the instructions become merely pro forma. “You must understand,” Koesler cautioned, “that at the end of this process-if we get there-you will be baptized. So it’d be a good idea to understand what you are being baptized into. That’s the purpose for the instructions.”
“Right. That makes sense. Then what?”
“Then we prepare the documentation. There are questionnaires for you both. Then-and you can begin putting this together right away-we identify the witnesses and supply accurate addresses and phone numbers. It won’t do to eliminate a very good witness because of an inaccurate number. Oh, and while you’re compiling the list: It’s a good idea not to contact any of them; otherwise the priest interviewer may suspect some coaching.”
“Who picks out the priests who do the interviews?” Frank was intent on taking no chances.
“Depends on where the witness lives. Generally, the local tribunal contacts a priest in the parish nearest to the witness. That priest becomes a notary assigned to take testimony by filling out a questionnaire with the witness’s answers. I’ve already done it a few times in the short while I’ve been a priest. But I’m getting ahead of myself …
“Now, here’s something unpleasant … but we can get around it: They want you to pay the cost of this procedure. A case like this has to go to Rome for a decision. That involves translating the documents into Latin and hiring a Roman lawyer to present your case. Right off the bat they want three hundred and fifty dollars-with a promise that you’ll also pay any additional cost. But,” Koesler hastened to add, “all I need do is make a notation in forma pauperum. Which simply means that you cannot afford this much.”