“That’s when I thought of Henry VIII, who got a dispensation and then challenged the validity of his marriage because of the dispensation-just as if it had never been given. Could that have happened to me? Could they have found some flaw in the dispensation we got?
“Well, you’re the expert when it comes to Church law. What do you think?”
Koesler did not appreciate the corner Kleimer had forced him into.
To begin, Koesler had no way of knowing what had happened between the Schuylers and Father Carleson. Perhaps Carleson
At very best, such an unrealistic relationship was awkward. At best it would be strained; at worst, intolerable.
There were several other possible arrangements that might have been found and agreed upon. But, in short, Koesler did not know exactly what had happened. However, after his conversation with Carleson Sunday night, Koesler knew full well that the priest was fully capable of doing just what Audrey Schuyler had implied. He knew that in Detroit some priests retained the approach that requires anyone with a previous marriage to acquire not only a civil divorce but an annulment-a ruling by the Tribunal or Church marriage court that the previous marriage was null, that it never existed. Indeed, such is the letter of the law.
Other priests might counsel such a couple to get married in any manner recognized by the state and just continue receiving the sacraments. This is sometimes referred to as “the pastoral solution.”
Still others, mainly in low profile, perhaps in the core city, will witness the remarriage-in direct contravention of Church law.
Father Carleson, however, never even asked couples who came to him whether there was a previous marriage to be dealt with. Koesler had concluded that Carleson was a
“Well-?” said an impatient Kleimer.
“Well, I don’t know what happened. It’s like when a surgeon performs an operation. Then someone like yourself goes to a second doctor to ask what the first doctor did. Doctor number two would have to be at a loss as to what happened. He’d have to have been there, seen the X rays, shared in the examination, witnessed the operation.” Koesler hoped Kleimer was understanding all this. “I have no clue as to what Father Carleson found or did.”
Kleimer checked his watch. He should get back to find out what Quirt had or hadn’t accomplished. But he wanted some answers from Koesler more satisfying than a plea of ignorance. “Okay. Lemme ask a couple of procedural questions. If Carleson somehow was able to validate that marriage, shouldn’t there be a record of it somewhere?”
“Yes,” Koesler answered truthfully, if with some reluctance. “There might be a notation in the marriage register at Ste. Anne’s. There also ought to be a notation in the baptismal records of both parties.”
“So …” Kleimer felt he was finally getting someplace. “… if there’s nothing in the records, they’re still locked out of the Church as much as they were when they married in the civil ceremony.”
“Not necessarily. They might have agreed to a brother and sister living arrangement.”
“Oh, yeah; I read about that when I married Audrey.”
Once again, Koesler was impressed by the extent of Kleimer’s preparation for his eventual vindictiveness.
“But,” Kleimer continued, “if they agreed to that, they couldn’t have intercourse. It’d be a sin for them to do anything sexual more than a brother and sister might do … right?”
Koesler, with an increasing sense of distaste, nodded wordlessly.
Kleimer seemed quite satisfied that the Schuylers, even though squared away with their God, would still be miserable. Then furrows formed in his forehead. “Hey, wait a minute! I’m thinking of what kind of guy this Carleson is. Diego seems to have made a lot of trouble for a lot of people. But nobody does anything about it but Carleson. He’s an action guy. He doesn’t wait around for things to happen; he makes them happen. He killed a bishop. It’d take a lot less to say the hell with some Church marriage laws and just witness the marriage of a couple of people who canonically couldn’t get married … no?”
“You’re jumping the gun badly. Father Carleson has been accused of murder. That doesn’t mean he’s guilty. Your premise is unfounded.” But Koesler feared that the astute attorney had detected his unspoken fleeting agreement with that premise.
“Son of a bitch …” Kleimer was no longer addressing Koesler, or anyone else for that matter. He was talking to himself. “This thing works both ways. If he can overlook every law of the Church and act out his contempt for those laws, why couldn’t he do the same with another law against murder, and just do what he feels is necessary?” He had him! “Sure! I’m gonna hang that bastard!”
Kleimer rose and slipped into his overcoat as Koesler said, in an alarmed tone, “Wait a minute, Mr. Kleimer. You’re dealing with two different kinds of law here. God’s law is not always the same as Church law.”
As he continued to try to reason with Kleimer, Koesler became somewhat incoherent.
Kleimer, wrapped up in his own elation, walked out the front door. As he went down the steps, he waved offhandedly. “Good-bye, Father Koesler. And thanks.”
The priest could only stand and watch as Kleimer got in his car and drove off.
Slowly, Koesler became aware that Mary O’Connor was staring at him, shocked. She had never seen him so flustered. “Are you all right, Father?”
Koesler did not respond immediately. He shut the door slowly, thoughtfully. “Yeah. Yeah, I’m all right, Mary. But I’m afraid a friend is in an awful lot of trouble.”
CHAPTER SIXTEEN
After Kleimer left the rectory, Father Koesler stood silent and still, watching the prosecutor bound down the steps and into his car parked at the curb. The priest felt as if he had betrayed a friend merely by truthfully answering questions. He knew he could not have done otherwise. But he felt bad regardless.
Mary O’Connor was surprised when Koesler asked her to hold all his calls. He scarcely ever did that.
Koesler went upstairs to his study. The room’s one small window admitted little light to brighten this gray day. He chose to sit in the gloom and think.
This matter of marriage, divorce, and remarriage was handled differently in various faiths. For one whose marriage had disintegrated, this could easily be life’s lowest point. And divorce, depending on whether and how it was contested, could be brutal.
To Koesler, this was the moment when an understanding, solicitous, forgiving, and welcoming Church was most needed. He was embarrassed to admit that his Church, the Catholic Church, was perhaps the least helpful of any major faith in this respect.
Koesler had friends who were priests, ministers, rabbis, so he knew something of their procedures.
Among Orthodox Jews, the bill of legal divorcement is enacted by a husband giving a “get” to his wife. There is no trial, or precise laws that must be observed. A rabbinical court finalizes the “get” by making cuts in the paper bearing the decision. This “cut” is a statement that the case may not be reinstated. It is final.
According to Jewish law, a husband may divorce his wife at will, with some restrictions. That the husband must approach the rabbi precludes such whimsy as dismissing the wife over, say, breakfast. However, the wife needs the permission of her husband to seek a divorce. Which may be another definition of “fat chance.”
One further indication of the wife’s standing is that a wedding cannot be witnessed on the Sabbath. One cannot conduct business on the Sabbath. The connection being the perception of a wife as comparable to chattel- property.
Reform Jews, with whom there is a current tendency toward more traditional practices, are, by and large, not in the divorce business. Things are pretty much up to the individual rabbi. In this, there can be a good bit of shopping for the right rabbi, since it is perfectly possible for the one rabbi, for reasons of his own, to refuse to
