Entering the rectory it seemed as though I was walking through the dimly lit catacombs. I was soon to learn that one of the cardinal sins in the eyes of the pastor was having enough light to see your next few steps. Escorted into the parlor I was immediately struck by the powerful smell of cigar smoke. Seated in the large leather chair was the Patriarch of Holy Trinity that had been pastor for many, many years. Barely acknowledging my presence he continued to smoke and watch the television. Two other figures in the semi-darkness rose to greet me. The older of the two Father Flanagan warmly shook my hand and as did the younger priest Father Gene McCoy.After a brief period of silent discomfort Gene McCoy offered to take me to my room which was basically the attic.The setting could have been part of a Trappist monastery in its austere furnishings. Boyish and enthusiastic he filled me in on the Saturday schedule and graciously offered to lead me to the church in an hour for weekly confessions. Thanking him profusely I unpacked and prepared for my first priestly function. Bolting down the stairs at the appointed hour I was a combination of anxiety and anticipation. Entering the church I was struck by the beauty of the altar which again was lit only be a few small lights. I mused that we were certainly not the number one client of the energy company. Seated in the darkness of the confessional I heard someone enter and in a deep baritone voice started the ancient ritualBless me Father for I have sinned. I listened intently to the list of identified sins and then with all the pent up energy of finally being free of the seminary unloaded all my knowledge and insights with fervor. I went on and on with an avalanche of current theological gems and finally finished with a rousing God loves you. I guess I expected applause but the person in the box saidCould you repeat that Father I am almost totally deaf.
Posted on: Tue, 30 Dec 2014 12:46:57 +0000
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