Exploring Faith

Bless Me Father, For I Have Sinned

In Finding God by Chris Day

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This is one post in a series called “Finding God.” You can read Chris Day’s entire series here.

As the years went on so did my journey deeper into Catholicism. I was enrolled in (Pope) John XXIII Elementary School and later would follow with Bishop Fenwick High School. In second grade I prepped for, and partook in, my First Holy Communion. That was sacrament number two for me. I was taught all the standard bible stories and prayed the exact same prayer before each and every meal. I wore the boring school uniform, I kept my hair cut above my ears, I folded my hands upon entering the church building, and I prayed to all sorts of patron saints depending on what I needed at the time. You could say that I was starting to live up to the names I had been given.

Early in elementary school they dropped a bit of a bomb on us. We would be participating in yet another sacrament. It was great for my proverbial Catholic checklist. I was flying through these sacraments. This “being Catholic” thing was easy peasy. Then the nun teaching our Religion class explained further what we would be doing. It was something called Penance or Reconciliation. Each of us would have to meet with a priest one-on-one and confess all the sins we had committed. Every last one. Then Father So-and-So would determine just how awful of a person we were and give us a list of prayers we had to go complete before we could leave the church and go about our normal lives.

The whole thought of this scared the bejesus out of me. First, I knew I sinned here and there, but I definitely preferred to keep those missteps private. Second, what if I said something this priest guy had never heard before? Would he flip his lid? Would he rush me out of there and throw me into a vat of holy water and douse me with incense smoke? Third, what happens when this person goes and tells my parents everything I had done wrong and they punish me for like eleventy-three years?

I just had so many questions and fears about this Penance ritual. Nothing about it would be comfortable or seemed fair. So, I did what probably 90% of the kids in my class did. I went into the confession booth and simply gave the priest a snippet of my actual sin list. The highlights, if you will. I picked out my most repeated sins, like lying to my parents, or being mean to the nerd I sat by on the bus, or whatever. I certainly left off things like shooting a man in Reno just to watch him die.

In the end, and as uncomfortable as it actually was, I only ended up having to say a few “Hail Marys” and “Our Fathers,” and I was on my way. But I can tell you that I never got more comfortable with these times of confession. Something about it always seemed cold and impersonal and merely ritualistic. It even became a game for many of my classmates. They would confess crazy and absurd things they had never actually done just to see what types of—or how many—prayers they would be given to recite. Surely the priest caught on after hearing Joe Casserly admit to pushing his grandma down the stairs four straight visits to the confession booth.

As I got Catholic-ier it all became second nature and easy. I volunteered to be an altar boy which ultimately got me out of school numerous times to hold a candle during funerals. I would be asked to suit up in my gowns (cassock and surplice, I still remember the names) and be a part of marriage ceremonies. This was where the money was at. The father of the bride or groom would undoubtably slip me a twenty dollar bill afterward. For holding a simple candle and helping the priest mix up cocktails? Heck, I woulda done it for $5.

We attended mass weekly without fail. And I can honestly tell you that I never once paid attention the entire time. It was the exact same thing over and over, with the exception of the bible passages being read aloud. Those changed from week to week. And the homily, or lesson, taught by the priest at the end of the scripture reading also changed. But everything else remained exactly the same. So why pay attention? Why participate? Why care? Catholic church became a chore. A menial task that I completed only to appease my parents. I was utterly bored with it and lost interest in a hurry. Even in grade school I would wonder if there was something else out there. Or was it me? Was I the problem or had I just reached the pinnacle of Catholicism and would forever be looking down, bored out of my gourd. By the time I reached my teens, and four sacraments in, I had gotten to the point where I began searching for anything God-related that didn’t involve Catholicism. I was ready for a change. Something meaningful. Something fulfilling. Anything but what I was doing.

Photo (Flickr CC) by Emilio Labrador

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Chris Day

Chris Day

A college dropout, church pastor, and international arms dealer all walk into a bar … Luckily it’s not a huge tab because they’re all the same person. Chris began his college career in medicine and ended it (short) enrolled in religious studies. After several years in church work, Chris moved onto the next logical step: Dealing firearms, of course. More than a decade later, he’s still arming the world while also dabbling in comedy and acting. He sees himself as the William Hung of the writing world. No formal training, but overly enthusiastic and off key. You can follow Chris, but he may call the cops because he’s not on Twitter, so that would just be considered stalking.
Chris Day

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