felt about his vocation he would surely miss being a priest. And he has. So it had to be his decision. His alone.
“With me on the side of his remaining a priest, there wasn’t anyone even suggesting that he leave and marry me. No one but himself.”
“So it was his choice?” Irma asked.
Pam shook her head. “You don’t understand, dear. It’s what your Father was trying to tell you before, What he regrets is the Church’s inability or refusal to understand that there’s no contradiction in being a priest and, at the same time, being married.”
“I think I understand, Mom. He’s very comfortable about having married you …”
“And having you for a daughter,” Pam interjected.
Irma smiled. “Yeah. That’s neat. So he’s okay about all that. The problem is with the Church. He should be able to be a priest now-saying Mass and everything.”
“Think you’ve got it?”
“I think so. But I’ve got to think about it some more.”
“Good.” Pam began massaging her forehead.
“Headache? Let me do that for you.”
Pam smiled. “Know what you can do for me, dear? Maybe you could play something nice and soothing.”
Irma gave it a moment’s thought. “Sure.” She moved to the spinet and the beautiful strains of Franz Liszt’s “Liebestraunr” filled the room.
Pam relaxed, rested her head against the chair, closed her eyes, and let the memories flood over her.
Her daughter’s query had brought to mind those fateful days after she and Father Fred Stapleton had first met.
He was an attractive man, talented, handsome, well read, with an infectious sense of humor-and off-limits. On neither’s part was it love at first sight. She taught in the parochial school attached to the parish of which he was pastor. As a nun, she had taught for many years before leaving the convent. She was a gifted teacher.
Father Stapleton took an active interest in his school and, naturally, in its teachers. Of all the teachers, religious and lay, he managed to find more time for Pam Baldwin than for any of the others. She was such a good teacher, and attractive and fun-and off-limits.
Their relationship grew, as most authentic love does, gradually. By the time they realized they were, after all, an ordinary couple who wanted to spend the rest of their lives together, it was too late to turn back. If Pam had made the slightest suggestion that he leave the priesthood so they could marry, he would have started the process immediately. On the contrary, however, her resolve that he remain an active priest was far stronger than his.
So when the decision was finally made, it was his entirely.
In terms of staying in good standing with the Church, they were fortunate. Fred left at a time when the Pope happened to be lenient in granting laicization.
Pope Paul VI had inherited the legacy of his predecessor, John XXIII. The inheritance included the Second Vatican Council. There are those who believe Paul didn’t know what to do with it. Laicization, a modern phenomenon, at least in its frequency, was a case in point. Pope Paul vacillated from year to year in granting the request.
Laicization is the tortuous, complicated, and lengthy process by which a priest is “reduced” to the status of a lay person. And then some. Catholicism teaches that, “Once a priest, always a priest.” But in order to function-say Mass, absolve, marry, bury, etc.-the priest needs “faculties”-permission of his bishop, in the case of a diocesan priest, or of his religious superior, for a religious order priest.
The bishop giveth as well as taketh away.
Permission to function is withdrawn if, for any reason, a priest’s superior punishes him with a penalty called “suspension.” Should a priest “attempt” marriage without having been granted laicization, he is automatically excommunicated, in addition to being forbidden to function sacramentally.
There were times when Pope Paul’s policy would grant laicization for good cause; times when he tightened the restrictions by granting it, say, only to homosexuals; and times when he would not grant it at all.
In Fred Stapleton’s case there was good and bad news. The good news was that at the time he applied, permission was being granted quite liberally. The bad news was that, outside of emergencies, such as when someone was in danger of death, Fred would never again be able to function as a priest.
They were married in the Church by a priest who was a mutual friend.
Fred continued teaching while he earned the degrees necessary for a psychology practice. Irma was not planned but she was made very welcome.
Fred became a very competent and popular psychologist-counselor. His clientele included many celebrities of the Detroit metropolitan area. Often he was quoted in the media, and his photo would appear in the paper or on TV. The Stapletons lived comfortably, though not lavishly. By Pam’s standards, all was well-with the notable exception of Fred’s attitude toward his enforced laicization. And that attitude had blossomed and hardened through the years.
In the beginning, laicization had been an O. Henry sort of gift. Fred thought Pam wanted everything to be kosher. Pam thought Fred would be distressed were he excommunicated. Neither assumption, as it turned out, was true. But each hesitated to talk about it. So Pam endured the months of delay and uncertainty and Fred endured the endless questions of the MMPI test.
Because he was put in the posture of a beggar, that which he sought-permission of the Church for him to function as a layman without the obligation of reciting the breviary daily, and a dispensation from his promise of celibacy-took on heightened desirability.
It was only after the permission had been granted and they were married that Fred could calmly and in clearer focus assess the “favor” the Church had bestowed. In the light of reexamination, it didn’t appear all that beneficent.
As a result of his research into the history and rationale of clerical celibacy, Fred grew increasingly certain that he and others like him had been robbed. He could and should have it all. So, when CORPUS was founded and established in Minneapolis, Fred became a charter member.
Pam was far less enchanted with the organization’s purpose.
Due to their status, Fred and Pam became familiar, and in many cases friendly, with other inactive priests and their spouses. By and large, thought Pam, these were excellent men. And, because it was so often true, she came to expect priests’ wives to be strong, intelligent, capable women.
In Pam’s eyes, CORPUS took a suppliant stance.
What galled Pam most about CORPUS was that there was seldom any sort of
In short, she felt that good men were demeaning themselves by pleading for something each of them believed was due them by right.
But she sensed Fred’s dedication to the organization and the cause. So she kept her feelings to herself, pondering them in her heart.
So lost in these thoughts was Pam that she was unaware that Irma had concluded “Liebestraum” and had added the unsolicited encore of Schumann’s “Traumerei.”
Irma had turned on the piano bench and was looking at her mother. Pam had no clue as to how long this had been going on. But now, conscious of Irma’s gaze, she said, “Thank you, dear; that was marvelous. Just what the doctor ordered.”
“You didn’t hear a note I played.”
“Oh, but I did. I found it so soothing I got lost in my own reverie. It helped, dear; honest it did.”
Irma wore a concerned expression. “Mama, would you do something special for me?”
“Of course, sweetheart.”
“Would you make sure Daddy doesn’t do anything foolish?”
Pam was startled. “What?”
