Chapter 1
Every day I come to work and feel like a hypocrite. I preach the importance of being honest while hiding behind my own lies. I condemn sexual immorality while suppressing the sinful desires I harbor. And I promote forgiveness while clutching onto resentment.
Nobody’s perfect. "For all have sinned and fall short of the glory of God." But if anyone should be close, it would be a priest, and yet some days, I feel furthest of all.
In the small town of Crest Haven, it’s hard to keep much a secret, so it’s best to abstain from any and everything that could be found out. I moved here a couple of years ago for this position, leaving my home in Pennsylvania after completing my time at St. Mary’s Seminary.
However, you could say moving to Massachusetts was a homecoming.
Too bad there wasn’t anyone here to be excited about my return.
Growing up, I lived about three hours from here, much closer to Boston.
I enjoy Crest Haven though. Less trouble to be found in a small town. At least that’s what I tell myself.
I’m the priest of the only Catholic church in town, sharing the duties with another priest who travels into town on the weekends.
I make my way to the confessional booth and await the parishioners who will show up.
Someone enters the other side, proven by the sound of their steps and the long sigh that follows. When they don’t say anything, I speak up.
“Welcome.”
“Not sure what to say. Forgive me, Father?” he questions. “Do I have to do something specific here?”
“Did you make the sign of the cross?”
There’s another brief hesitation before he says, “Yeah.” He either just did it, or lied about doing it at all.
“Bless me, Father, for I have sinned. That’s what you say.”
“Oh. Well, Bless me, Father, for I have sinned.” His words drip with skepticism.
Sensing he’s never been or not been in a while, I guide him through.
“How long has it been since your last confession?”
He chuckles. “Probably two decades. I haven’t been since I was around ten.”
“Okay. What are your sins?”
“Too many to cover in one session, Padre.”
“Talk to me,” I encourage.
“To be forgiven?”
“God forgives those who repent.”
“To be honest, I’m not here seeking absolution. I’m aware of my actions, but I don’t see them the same way others do.”
“What do you mean?”
“I know right from wrong. It’s not about that. But not everyone can live in such black and white. Everyone sins. Even you, I’m sure.”
I swallow and clear my throat. “You’re right. Nobody is perfect. We make mistakes, but we have to learn from them.”
He snorts. “Mistakes. Yeah, well, they say it isn’t a mistake if you do it more than once, right?”
“What’s bothering you the most right now?” I ask.
“I’m not really a religious person. My mom brought me to church when I was a kid. I haven’t stepped foot in one of these in a long time.”
“Something obviously drew you in. What are you struggling with?”
He huffs. “It doesn’t matter. Again, I don’t know why I’m here when this is no place for me.”
“Everyone is welcome here.”
“Don’t give me the bullshit speech, okay?”
His hostility catches me off guard, but he’s clearly wrestling with something. “Are you—”
A phone blares from the other side, cutting me off. With a sigh, he says. “Never mind. I gotta go.”
“Wait.”
But he’s gone. I hear the rustling of his clothes as he gets up, and then the sound of his footsteps as he rushes away.
That’s not the first time that’s happened. There’s a lot of people who get nervous when it’s time to confess their sins. Afterall, it’s hard to reveal the truth to ourselves, let alone someone else. I just hope they find their way back.
I glance at my watch and see that it’s almost six-thirty, so I leave the wooden confessional and walk in front of the mahogany pews to my right. I come to a stop in front of the altar, taking a moment to gaze upon the opulence.
The arched, stained glass window is massive—perhaps nearly twenty feet tall.
The images etched into the glass in a variety of colors reflect on the exquisitely waxed hardwood floor.
Large marble pillars stand tall on both sides, the gold accents on the tops match the double chandeliers that hang right above the steps to the stage.
It’s stunning, and I try to take a moment every day to appreciate that I’m here. Especially on the days I feel like I don’t belong.
In the sacristy, I remove my vestments and gather my belongings, taking a moment to stare at my reflection in the oval mirror on the wall.
My brown hair is perfectly combed and coiffed to appear as though I simply ran my hand through it.
I have to look put together, considering I still struggle with feeling like I am.
My face is clean shaven, though I prefer a little facial hair, and it’s something I may change in the future.
I think I’m still clinging to some of my father’s habits, hoping, in some childlike way, that the commonality between us will mean something.
I adjust the glasses on my face, wishing they weren’t clear, so I wouldn’t see the discontent threaded through the brown irises every time I look at myself.
Turning away, I decide it’s time to head home, but the mysterious penitent from today lingers in my head. And even after I’m home and decide to go for my evening run, his words chase me on my route.
Everyone sins. Even you.