“Come on, Lou. All you told that boy was to fix things for Frankie and me. You didn’t even know what he was going to show us when you suggested that ‘tour.’”
“Okay, okay. So I just told him to do everything he could to help so you could receive the sacraments again. How’d he do?”
“We’ll see. We’re to wait a few days. Vinnie is going to write to his friend, your priest-”
“You mean Father Koesler? Oh, that’s good. He’s a good priest. He gives such good sermons. And he says Mass so fervently-”
“How is he with miracles?”
“If anybody can do it, he can. And we’ll help as much as we can.” Louise turned to the others. “C’mon everybody,” she said loudly, “we’re going to say the Rosary on the way home. It’s for the intention of Uncle Frank and Aunt Martha.”
Tony began to grumble. Lucy began to whine. But that was all drowned out as Louise began: “‘In the name of the Father and of the Son and of the Holy Ghost, Amen …’”
Vincent watched them leave. Then he headed back toward the residence hall. It was time for Sunday Vespers.
As he walked, he pondered.
No two ways about it: If Uncle Frank and Aunt Martha wanted an adjustment in their religious status they would have to consult a priest. The only question was: Which priest?
There might well be priests better qualified than Bob Koesler. Oh, he knew his stuff all right; all he lacked was experience.
That could be both good and bad.
If the incidence of success with this sort of marital problem was poor, Bob wouldn’t know that. So he could be more confident. But if it involved knowing whom to consult for best and quickest results, Koesler would be behind the eight ball.
Then another thought entered Vincent’s head. Lourdes. That repository of astounding miracles. A grotto decorated with crutches and wheelchairs left by the grateful cured.
Yet it was said that the greater miracle was that experienced by those who came and left crippled-crippled but resigned to their fate and filled with inner peace. Another sort of miracle.
It was a good thing that he was headed for the celebration of Vespers, the Church’s evening prayer. This enterprise was going to need a lot of prayer.
7
Rumor had it that an Italian priest fresh in America from his mother country was offering ten Masses a day and accepting a five-dollar stipend for each one.
Once the chancery was apprised of this practice, a chancellor called and told the priest in no uncertain terms that he could not offer ten Masses a day.
His response: “Ma, shu’ I can. I’m a big-a strong guy.”
Father Robert Koesler was a big, strong guy too, and he would have been happy to offer ten Masses a day- sans all those stipends.
Father Koesler had been a priest four months now and he was enjoying every minute of it. In a way, he regretted that his once-a-day Mass (except for Sundays, when, due to the crowds, priests were given permission to offer two Masses) was always scheduled for early morning. Mass was the highlight of his day. He wished he could have all day to anticipate it. He tried to adjust to this minor disappointment.
His days in this first parochial assignment had fallen into a routine. This also pleased the young priest. He loved routine.
On most days, after Mass, he taught in the parochial school. Never mind that he was totally unqualified as a teacher. He was a priest; Father could do anything. Afternoons were usually spent outside the rectory-visiting the sick, or parishioners who, for one reason or another, were homebound. In the evening there were endless instructions for people who wanted to convert to Catholicism. Or he would meet with couples who were making arrangements to be married.
Initially, he had been surprised at the time consumed in clearing the deck for marriage. The simplest procedure-a marriage between two Catholics of independent age, neither previously married-required several visits to fill out all the forms and to be instructed by the priest.
The priest, of course, had never been married. But he was Father: Ex officio, he could do everything.
From his-so far-parochial experience, Koesler had concluded that while it was fairly difficult to enter a Catholic marriage, it was extremely difficult to get out of one.
Canon Law had all the lines-and the questions. Were both parties to this marriage over twenty-one years of age? If not, parental consent was required. Were both Catholic? If not, a dispensation given by the local chancery was required. Were both free to marry, or did either have a previous marriage? If so, the previous marriage had to be annulled. Not infrequently, this process was as easy and successful as jumping the Grand Canyon. Were the parties entering this marriage of their own free will, or were they being coerced by force or fear? If so, the procedure stopped here until the coercion ceased-or, no marriage.
Obviously, once all the questions had been answered and the forms filled in to the Church’s satisfaction, it would be next to impossible to claim that due to some circumstance there had been no marriage from the moment of exchange of consent.
Handling marriage cases was not high on Koesler’s thrill list.
However, tonight a marriage case was coming at him from left field. The couple were not even his parishioners. Earlier in the week, he’d received a letter from his friend Vincent Delvecchio.
Vincent was not in a position to be very helpful regarding the problem. He had not yet been exposed to marriage law in the Catholic Church. All he was able to contribute was that there may have been a previous marriage on his uncle’s part. What Vince knew for certain was that his aunt and uncle had been married by a judge. From the time of that marriage, his aunt had never again received Communion. His uncle was not a Catholic, so Communion was not an issue for him. Not much help there to enable Koesler to anticipate what the problem might be.
On the other hand, even married people would be hard-pressed to explain the canonical status of their marriage. Specific study of Canon Law would be required to understand concepts such as validity and liceity. Canon Law was not kind to the unpracticed eye.
When Mrs. Morris phoned for an appointment, Vincent’s letter proved helpful. Without the letter, Koesler would have been most reluctant to see a couple who not only weren’t parishioners but who lived beyond his parish boundaries.
The appointment was for 10 P.M. Rather late, but the first slot Koesler had available after instructions. In point of fact, Koesler had a mixed bag this evening. Immediately after dinner, he had scheduled instructions for 6, 7, and 8-followed at 9 by a couple making preliminary arrangements for a wedding.
They were a typical engaged couple. Once they had decided on a wedding, their first move was to reserve a hall for the reception. Only then did they call the rectory to book a time and date that would blend with the hall’s availability. It worked; they had no idea how lucky they were.
It was a simple enough marriage. Both were Catholic, of age, free to marry, and were not being forced. Yet each had to fill out “A” forms requiring answers to questions that never would have occurred to them. They were surprised at this-and at the necessity for each to present a copy of the baptismal records showing no notation of marriage. Said record had to have been issued within the past six months-further proof that neither had a previous marriage. Once they were married at St. William’s, notice would be sent to the parish of baptism for each of them. Their marriage would be recorded in their baptismal records. And from that time on, whenever either of them was issued a baptismal certificate, notice of their marriage would be included on that certificate.
The chief concerns of this couple, typically, were gowns, invitations, seating arrangements, flowers for the church, food service-buffet or banquet-etc.
Koesler tried to direct them to thoughts of the liturgy and, especially to give them an awareness of the
