Due to my friends, education and career choices over the years, I am well informed on the odd facts and trivia of our Catholic faith. St. Drogo is the patron of unattractive people. St. Catherine of Siena’s tomb in Rome is opened on her feast day every year for people to kneel inside and touch what encases her. St. Vincent Ferrer’s finger, which he used to point during his preaching, is in a reliquary at the parish named for him in New York City.
Some of this knowledge is mostly for fun, while other facts of our Church’s wealth of tradition, customs and practices enrich a life in the faith.
When my fiancé and I became engaged in November, we both began discussing the possibility of the Rite of Betrothal. Having friends who had requested this rite before, I knew of its existence, but neither of us knew what it entailed.
The priest who coordinated our marriage preparation was unfamiliar with betrothal, but after we inquired about it, he did some research and within hours was setting up a time for the next day to begin our betrothal.
As my fiancé and I walked into the large seminary building in another city one April evening, a religious brother met us in the hallway and welcomed us into a small chapel. Father was waiting for us, having already prepared the chapel for the event – moving two portable kneelers to the front and readying for Mass.
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