Government's 'window on the soul'

Antonia Willis, a near-divorcee, reflects on what Lord Mackay's new Green Paper on divorce will mean for Catholics
LORD MACKAY'S NEW Green Paper on Divorce is of direct interest, if the figures being currently bandied about are to be trusted, to an appalling one-third of all married couples in Britain today.
Many of those affected will be Catholic; and I am among them. It strikes me that we should not confound the civil law with the laws of our Church, nor should we expect the one to reflect the other. It is the function of government to administer public funds and to maintain law and order, not, as Queen Elizabeth I said, to "make windows into men's souls".
It is the function of the Church, however, to guide our consciences and to uphold the Sacraments, of which marriage is one. The state can acquiesce in the dissolution of a marriage, having no remit either to keep people together or apart; but it cannot absolve one of responsibility, any more than it can absolve one of sin.
For many separated Catholics, the issue is not whether or not one is divorced but whether or not one can obtain an annulment.
At this point I must make it clear that I am not writing as an aggrieved or abandoned party, but as one who chose to leave a failing marriage and I was "lucky" in that there were no children to consider.
I did not have the excuse of being beaten or ill-treated, nor of marrying so young as to be unaware of the gravity of the marriage oath. I married at the fairly long-in-the-tooth age of 29, not because of some sudden coup de foudre, but as the culmination of a long and happy friendship. I was married in a Catholic church, and, at the time of taking my vows, fully intended to keep them.
Having broken them, I would like to remain within the Church to have my cake and eat it, many would say but here I find myself caught in what I suspect to be a fairly typical dilemma.
As long as I accept that I will never re-marry, never have children, I can leave things as they are. If I do not accept this, I will have to seek
an annulment; this path seems to me fraught with moral difficulties.
Many people are illinformed about annulment, although the days are long gone when rumour had it that a donation to some mysterious Vatican slush-fund would secure a sympathetic hearing, or that annulment was an option open only to those well-connected enough to penetrate the labyrinth of Church bureaucracy.
Still, annulment remains a mysterious process to many of us; and a good thing too, some might say, since in an
ideal world there would not be much call for it. My own experience, for what it is worth, would suggest that a reason for our ignorance of the grounds for annulment lies in reticence; divorce is an intensely painful process, and we are most disinclined to talk about the whys and wherefores, even to those closest to us.
I am lucky in that I have a close friend who happens to be a priest. He advises me that I may well have grounds for annulment, but I am still reluctant to follow this route, largely because I am not convinced that to annul something which existed is not in some way a denial of reality, an attempt to escape from the Consequences of one's actions.
Personally, I would prefer some form of grim penitential rite, after which one would be let off the hook; but then, the Church is not in the business of letting people off books.
I do not wish in any way to imply criticism of the Church's stance on the matter; I believe that the fault lies with my own actions, not with the ChurCh's reaction to them.
Women of my generation who regard themselves as Catholics have every conceivable choice in the matter; all forms of faith and non-faith are open to us. We can become Buddhists, serial monogamists, lesbian separatists or all three if we want to.
We choose, therefore, to be or not to be members of the Catholic church; nobody is making us do it. If we break the rules, we have to accept the consequences. The consequences, for people in my position, are that one becomes a kind of Catholic hybrid; you will see us at Mass, but not at the Communion rail.
To turn to some of the practical aspects of Mackay's Green Paper; a non-adversarial, "no-fault" divorce mechanism cannot be a bad thing, especially where there are children to be considered,
As it is, the vast majority of people who use the "unreasonable behaviour" clause do so quite cynically, as it is a virtually non-contested route to a quick divorce. My own lawyer suggested that I use it, helpfully adding that I could get together with my husband and agree on some points of "unreasonable behaviour" that we might both find acceptable.
I can scarcely think of a single marriage where the odd fit of unreasonable behaviour does not occur. A "no fault" divorce might sound improbable, but it can only be a kinder option to all concerned.
One thing which does disconcert us near-divorcees is the readiness with which married or single commentators will come up with statements along the lines of "make marriage harder not easier, to end".
This government is in no position to 'make' anyone take this or that moral position on matrimony. Where the state's financial interests are at stake, there is every reason to adopt an open, pragmatic policy on questions of welfare support when marriages break down, in which case ministers ought to admit that their concerns are fiscal, not ethical.
I, for one; would far rather take moral guidance from Cardinal Hume than from Peter Lilley.
We must also resist the inference that divorce is "easy", It is not; it is a highly distressing process, and I have yet to meet anyone with experience of it who thinks otherwise.
The breeding-ground for divorce is an unhappy marriage, which is why the Church is right to focus on preparation for marriage rather on mechanisms for separation. Where there is no cure, it is as well to concentrate on prevention.