Jace
It was Friday and my first week of being the new priest was complete. I had given up the alcohol after that Tuesday night. It took my body three days to get it all out of my system, I think. I’d never been a drinker, even before I became a priest. I intensely disliked what it did to my body and my mind. But I had been hitting it so hard that when I quit, that in itself was an ordeal.
I’d been on my knees during most of my free time that week, praying for forgiveness and looking for guidance. I was in shock and disbelief at my own actions.
I’m not even sure what I would have done or said if I’d woken up with that beautiful woman lying next to me on Wednesday morning. At least there was one thing to be thankful for, and that was that she’d snuck out before I had to face her.
I had to struggle with the memories, though. I know I was supposed to be feeling remorse and regret, and I was — kind of. But if truth be told, and I hope no one ever gets that out of me, not a minute had gone by in the past week when she wasn’t on my mind.
The fact is, I was still thinking about her and lusting after the memories and the images of her in my mind made it harder to face myself and to be accountable to the Lord for what I’d done. I committed a mortal sin, and although I knew that God forgives us our sins, I still agonized over the fact that I allowed it to happen.
I’d like to blame it on the alcohol and the beautiful woman, but I should have known better on both counts. If a priest can’t be counted on to resist temptation, how can he be counted on to counsel and lead his flock? Besides, I must not have been too drunk; I could remember every sensuous detail.
I got up Wednesday morning and went on with my life. Each time she would sneak into my conscious memories, I would stamp them down and move on. It was only at night that she completely took over the space in my head and caused my body to do things that were very un-priest-like.
As I sat in the confessional, all of those thoughts ran through my head. I did my best to give the task my undivided attention when someone was in the booth, but the second they left, my thoughts were overtaken once more.
I heard the door on the other side of me open and shut, and then I heard the voice of what sounded like an older woman say, “Bless me, Father, for I have sinned. It’s been several weeks since my last confession. During that time, I’ve taken the name of the Lord in vain several times…almost always directed at my husband, Father. He gets me so angry sometimes… I’m sorry, I’m digressing,” she giggled nervously.
Confession makes even the astute Catholic nervous, even us priests sometimes, especially after a week like the one I had. Shamelessly, I was still putting mine off.
The lady went on to tell me a few more things that she had done, like yelling at the dog or the kids. None of her sins were mortal ones and most of them barely qualified as venial. We said the Act of Contrition together and I gave her the penance and she was on her way.
I waited 15 long minutes for the next confession. I say long minutes because every moment that I was alone, my mind wanted to dwell on my sins. I alternated between thinking of them as sins one time and treating them as a sweet, delicious memory the next. I’m a terrible priest.
I had just finished that thought when I heard the door open and close on the other side. After a few seconds, a young woman’s voice said, “Bless me, Father, for I have sinned. It has been two months since my last confession.”
The voice was distinct and familiar, and because I hadn’t stopped thinking about that night all week, I recognized it immediately. My stomach clenched and I suddenly, couldn’t catch my breath.
Chapter Nine
Daphne
Friday morning, I got up and went to confession before work. I was secretly and guiltily happy that the confessions at this church were held in the old confessionals, where I didn’t have to face the priest. I was in no way perfect, but at my old church where you sat face to face with the priest, I’d never had to confess anything I was this ashamed of.
I know that if I’m going to confess my sins, I should be able to face up to them. But, since I didn’t choose this particular route, I left that much in the hands of God. There was a little sign up that said, “Father Jace will be hearing confession today.”
Father Jace must be the new parish priest. I’d always liked that name. I used to think if I ever had a son, I’d like to name him Jace. Maybe that’s a good sign. Maybe God is trying to let me know that although I have sinned, my life will go on. I went into the little wooden closet and when I heard the priest pull open his little window I said, “Bless me, Father, for I have sinned. It has been two months since my last confession.”
I thought I heard him take in a deep breath, and I found that strange. I hoped he was okay. He didn’t say anything, so I went on, “In that time, I have committed multiple sins that I’m sorry for, Father. I drank in excess one night, I used foul language, and I had sexual relations with a man whom I am not married to. For these, and all the sins of my past life, especially for my sins of lust, I am truly sorry.”
He still didn’t say anything. I could hear him breathing. It felt like a hesitation to me, and of course, I took it personally, thinking he must be so appalled that he was having a hard time speaking. I wanted to think that he’d heard a lot worse than my paltry sins, but my imagination was working overtime and I pictured him calling me all sorts of things in his head. God was probably going to strike me down just for having those thoughts in church.
I waited, not so patiently, and worried some more as I waited for him to respond. When he did, things only got worse. As soon as I heard the sound of his voice, chills ran from the top of my spine, down my back and across both of my arms. Why was that voice so familiar? I’d heard it recently and something about it made me feel so strange. I listened carefully as he spoke in a slightly shaky voice and I finally remembered where I’d heard that voice before.
It belonged to him — the gorgeous man I’d given my virginity to.
No way; it can’t be him. This is a priest! I let that settle for a moment and then he said something really strange that got my suspicions aroused again. Before we prayed he
said, “Does anyone else know about your…indiscretion?”
What an odd question. Why would that matter? A sin was still a sin, whether you told anyone about it or not.
“No, Father, I am too ashamed to tell anyone else. Besides, I believe that it’s between God and me at this point.”
He hesitated again. This was the oddest confession I’d ever had. Finally, I heard him take a deep breath and imagined him having more questions. He didn’t ask any, however. Instead, he said, “Bless you. Please go and say three Hail Marys and two Our Fathers and sin no more.” I wondered now if the shakiness in his voice was because he recognized my voice, as well.
He began to recite the Act of Contrition, and although I knew this drill very well, it took me a few seconds to jump in because I was still freaked out and trying to figure out what I should do.