The priest and I sat for an hour in his well-appointed office of the Catholic Chaplain at Yale University. It was the Spring of 1981. I was an assistant professor of sociology at Yale, and I was preparing to get married in August of that year. I had asked for our meeting to see whether it would be possible for him to be the co-celebrant at the wedding.
I went into the meeting visualizing any number of barriers to his participation. But I was doing due diligence on the possibility because I knew it would please my mother, a devoted Catholic.
The problems were several. My fiancée was Jewish, as would be our co-celebrant. I told the priest that I was no longer a practicing Catholic, and that I could not commit to bringing up any future children in the Catholic faith. I kept waiting for him to draw the line against his participation at any one of these conditions, but he did not. To my surprise, he kept indicating that he could work with them. I was pleased because I knew my mother would be.
As I stood up, something off-script entered my mind, and, thinking it really irrelevant, I nonetheless thought I should double check. Just in case. I said, “Oh, Father, there’s one more thing–it’s probably unrelated. My fiancée was married earlier and is now divorced.” He was halfway out of his chair when my comment caused him to slump back into it. “That’s a problem.” Continue reading “How I Lost the Faith and Found the Spirit, Part III: Exit”