Confession - Part 3
“This is the church you serve. This is the god you worship. The other priest does the same shit. I was a birthday gift from Father to Father.”
“It is not the church.”
“But it is.”
“It’s two sinful men. Two monsters.”
“It is the church. It is your church.”
“I beg you, sir. Don’t kill again.”
“Trying to save my soul? Too late for that, Father. Hey, I would have loved to have had a life, but that was stolen long ago, wasn’t it?”
“I am so sorry.”
“You keep saying that. Think it matters? Want to know what my life’s like now? Think I have a nice wife, a couple of little rug rats at home? Think that’s where this story ends?”
“I am so sorry.”
“Listen to you. If you were really sorry, you’d leave. You’d rip off that collar, get a bank loan and open a boxing school. Then maybe I’d believe you’re sorry. Then, you could help me. Then, you wouldn’t have to worry about no stupid seal of confession. Lead the cops right to me.”
“I don’t know what to say to you. I can’t … I cannot give you absolution.”
“No shit.”
“And a lot of times, I don’t know what to say to people. An infant dies. I don’t know what to tell that family. Those young parents. That it’s God’s will? I can’t get those words out. I don’t know why these things happen. I don’t know why … I don’t know about these horrible things. I don’t know why a 10-year-old boy has to die swimming on a beautiful summer day. That was a case … from another parish. Something from my childhood. But closer to home. Why is it that a father kills his wife in front of his son and then the son, a 15-year-old, has to shoot the father in self-defense? I don’t know. I can only pray. We can only pray. We’ve been put here, behind enemy lines. And we need to make our way back to safe territory, away from this fog of war. We can only believe that all of this makes sense when we get to heaven. With the saints.”
“Give me a fucking break.”
“And they are real, these holy men and women. They walk among us. In our lifetime, we’ve seen saints. You know, the philosopher G.K. Chesterton wrote that it is ‘a paradox of history that each age is converted by the saint that contradicts it the most.’ Mother Theresa of Calcutta. Who could be more unlike us? In an era enslaved to physical beauty and sexual adventure, she showed us the beauty of the soul and the adventure of charity. And do you know what she said? She once said that ‘loneliness is the leprosy of the west.’ Think about that. Are you still there?”
Frank Diamond has 30 years writing and editing experience for newspapers, magazines, and television, and is currently the managing editor of Managed CareMagazine. He has released a novel, The Pilgrim Soul, and a short story collection, Damage Control. He's had hundreds of articles and columns published in outlets including the Philadelphia Inquirer, Philadelphia Daily News and the Philadelphia Bulletin. His short stories have appeared in Innisfree, and Kola: A Black Literary Magazine. He has poetry published in Philadelphia Stories, Fox Chase Review, and Black Bottom Review. He also wrote the Bloom’s Guide (competitor with CliffsNotes) for The Handmaid’s Tale. He lives in Langhorne, Pa., with his wife, Kate, and daughter, Emily.
