Post by ken on May 2, 2006 1:53:06 GMT -5
“I may not be right, but I swear you must be absolutely wrong!”
Those are the last words the man I called Father will ever hear from my lips. I was an orphan, adopted by the priest in my town after my mother and father died. He raised me as his own, to follow in his footsteps. But I grew up watching him take advantage of the people in our village; I could never be like this man.
He would walk door to door, making our neighbors feel guilty for not giving enough to the Church. He abused what he learned in the confessional booth and blackmailed the parishioners with secrets supposedly known only to God.
Don’t get me wrong. He was not a greedy man. Every cent he collected went directly into the Church coffers; never did he keep a shekel for himself or our home, nor did he ever request any sort of additional compensation for his efforts. No, he acted selflessly and truly believed he was doing the work of our Lord.
As I grew older, so did my loathing of my father. He was a monster in my eyes, and here I was being pushed to follow in this monster’s footsteps. The church congregation had grown greatly during his tenure – he looked upon a sea of faces every standing at attention each Sunday. But the tension hanging in the air during mass was enough to make me ill. The few times I tried to speak to him of this, he brushed aside my comments, insisting it was the way the Lord wanted His people to act – in complete submission to His glory and power. Once I joined the priesthood, I would understand these things without question; I was young still and unable to comprehend the Will of our Lord.
After years of silence and burning inside, I decided to cleanse myself once and for all.
“Father forgive me, for I have sinned.” I heard a sharp breath on the other side of the screen just before it slid open.
“How long has it been since your last confession, my son?” inquired a shaky voice; I’d grown used to a calm rasp and had to collect myself before continuing.
“The Lord commands us to honor our father and mother. I know not either of mine, but a man I’ve grown to call my father has adopted me. He is a good man – has never brought his hand against me. Indeed, he is a man of God and serves his flock well.”
“Then what is it that troubles a young man’s spirit so?”
“I fear that my father, this priest, is not truly doing the Lord’s work. Every weekday he badgers men and women, privately reminding them of their sins and transgressions confessed to him as I do the same to you now. Surely this is not what the Lord wants?”
“It is the role of the shepherd to care for his flock, dear boy. The Lord and the Holiest Father in Rome have granted us the path to Heaven; what matter the means so long as the ends are met?” came the simmering reply.
“But what is a man who lives in fear? A man may only fear his Lord for so long; eventually his fear will turn to hatred, and hatred into rebellion.”
“You dare to say you don’t fear and honor the Lord? You dare to imply you know more than He; that you know more than his Holy Servants? You dare commit blasphemy with utterances of this hatred?” he hissed.
“It is not the Lord I hate, Father, but those who do wrong in his name.”
“Who are you to judge? You are only one man, and not as wise as those your superior.”
“And what right have you, a learned man but surely not omniscient, to proxy the Lord’s judgment?”
“I suggest you hold your tongue boy lest you wish these treasonous statements worthy of excommunication.”
“Then I shall save you the wax of a Papal seal, Father. Since the clergy bends the word of God to its will and ignores the love of the Son, surely God no longer dwells in this house you’ve built for home.”
“You will be banished from this church, this town and many others. I will not call you my son nor welcome you in my home any longer!”
“Then I take my leave of you. I’ll journey into the wilderness to face the temptations of the Devil. After looking upon your face in terror, Satan’s may not be so wretched. If I be right, the Lord will guide me. If wrong, I will return knowing more of the truth. Father, I may not be right, but I swear you must be absolutely wrong.”
Those are the last words the man I called Father will ever hear from my lips. I was an orphan, adopted by the priest in my town after my mother and father died. He raised me as his own, to follow in his footsteps. But I grew up watching him take advantage of the people in our village; I could never be like this man.
He would walk door to door, making our neighbors feel guilty for not giving enough to the Church. He abused what he learned in the confessional booth and blackmailed the parishioners with secrets supposedly known only to God.
Don’t get me wrong. He was not a greedy man. Every cent he collected went directly into the Church coffers; never did he keep a shekel for himself or our home, nor did he ever request any sort of additional compensation for his efforts. No, he acted selflessly and truly believed he was doing the work of our Lord.
As I grew older, so did my loathing of my father. He was a monster in my eyes, and here I was being pushed to follow in this monster’s footsteps. The church congregation had grown greatly during his tenure – he looked upon a sea of faces every standing at attention each Sunday. But the tension hanging in the air during mass was enough to make me ill. The few times I tried to speak to him of this, he brushed aside my comments, insisting it was the way the Lord wanted His people to act – in complete submission to His glory and power. Once I joined the priesthood, I would understand these things without question; I was young still and unable to comprehend the Will of our Lord.
After years of silence and burning inside, I decided to cleanse myself once and for all.
“Father forgive me, for I have sinned.” I heard a sharp breath on the other side of the screen just before it slid open.
“How long has it been since your last confession, my son?” inquired a shaky voice; I’d grown used to a calm rasp and had to collect myself before continuing.
“The Lord commands us to honor our father and mother. I know not either of mine, but a man I’ve grown to call my father has adopted me. He is a good man – has never brought his hand against me. Indeed, he is a man of God and serves his flock well.”
“Then what is it that troubles a young man’s spirit so?”
“I fear that my father, this priest, is not truly doing the Lord’s work. Every weekday he badgers men and women, privately reminding them of their sins and transgressions confessed to him as I do the same to you now. Surely this is not what the Lord wants?”
“It is the role of the shepherd to care for his flock, dear boy. The Lord and the Holiest Father in Rome have granted us the path to Heaven; what matter the means so long as the ends are met?” came the simmering reply.
“But what is a man who lives in fear? A man may only fear his Lord for so long; eventually his fear will turn to hatred, and hatred into rebellion.”
“You dare to say you don’t fear and honor the Lord? You dare to imply you know more than He; that you know more than his Holy Servants? You dare commit blasphemy with utterances of this hatred?” he hissed.
“It is not the Lord I hate, Father, but those who do wrong in his name.”
“Who are you to judge? You are only one man, and not as wise as those your superior.”
“And what right have you, a learned man but surely not omniscient, to proxy the Lord’s judgment?”
“I suggest you hold your tongue boy lest you wish these treasonous statements worthy of excommunication.”
“Then I shall save you the wax of a Papal seal, Father. Since the clergy bends the word of God to its will and ignores the love of the Son, surely God no longer dwells in this house you’ve built for home.”
“You will be banished from this church, this town and many others. I will not call you my son nor welcome you in my home any longer!”
“Then I take my leave of you. I’ll journey into the wilderness to face the temptations of the Devil. After looking upon your face in terror, Satan’s may not be so wretched. If I be right, the Lord will guide me. If wrong, I will return knowing more of the truth. Father, I may not be right, but I swear you must be absolutely wrong.”
