***Warning: this post may be offensive to members of the Catholic faith or those who consider themselves religious.
Before yesterday, the last communication I had with a priest involved me hurling the ‘F’ word. He wasn’t my priest and he wasn’t acting in the role of a priest, he just happened to be a priest – and yes, the “F” word was hurled directly at him. Fast forward to last week when my husband informs me that his parents’ local priest says he won’t baptise our daughter until we get a permission slip from our local parish that the ceremony can take place in France. I laugh heartily because I think it is so funny that the Catholic Church follows all these sillly protocols when it comes to its parishoners but have been so remiss in dealing properly with abhorrent misconduct among their own ranks. Meanwhile, we are not churchgoers – I’m not even Catholic – and I have no intention of bringing up a Roman Catholic child. I am trying to think of this whole baptism thing as nothing more than a nice party for our daughter with a priest hired to entertain instead of a clown.
Yesterday, I sent an email to the local archdiocese (sans blue language) and hope that they don’t make us attend a Sunday service before granting us permission to have our baby dunked à la française although I am almost certain they will charge a hefty fee!