I finally spoke with someone in some kind of position of authority at St. Genevieve’s, and I’m sorry to report this was our second strike with the Catholic Church. I had high hopes as I dialed the number for the Church, and instead of the answering machine that’s never answered, I got the “handler” I had spoken to a while ago. My confidence began to build a little further as the handler actually responded in the affirmative when I asked if there was someone I could speak to about holding a wedding at the Church.
I explained to the “gentleman” that was then placed on the phone that I was interested in being married at St. Gen’s, and he cut me short and asked if we were members of the parish. I explained that we were not, as we lived in Connecticut, and he immediately told me I we could not be married there unless we had an official connection to the Church. I explained that Meghan spent some of her first school years at the Church’s school, and received her first communion there, but that was not good enough for Mr. Gruff.
He was getting noticeably frustrated that I would dare ask to have the Good Lord preside over one of the most important events of my life, and finally said that I would have to “find one of the priests” and ask him to marry us.
“That’s the procedure and that’s all there is to it. Good bye.”
I really hope this person was not a priest, or that I just caught him on a bad day. It’s discouraging that the Catholic Church finds us to be such an inconvenience. I understand that we’re not part of any flock in the North Jersey area, but one would think that occasionally, people live in a different place than that in which they want to be married.
The silver lining on this cloud is that we found a Church about two miles away from our reception site. It’s called the “Church of the Little Flower,” and with a name like that, it’s got to be a little more welcoming than the Church of St. Gruff. Let’s hope the third time, as they say, is the charm!