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“I did… a less than ideal thing… a bad thing. Several of them in fact,” I say. I can practically hear the priest’s eyebrows raise.
“Could you perhaps be a bit more specific?”
“I’d really rather not.” Brian thinks it’s insane to incriminate myself to a priest. He doesn’t understand the seal of confession or trust it.
As if to echo my thoughts, the priest says, “The seal of confession is higher than any law, no matter what the sin is. I am bound by my oath to the Church not to reveal anything said in the confessional booth. Even the most heinous of crimes.”
I clear my throat. “It was a violent thing.”
“Did someone get hurt?”
“Oh yes.” And I think I might sound just a bit too gleeful when I say this, if the priest’s sharp intake of breath is anything to go by.
“And do you regret this thing you did?”
“Not even a little,” I say. I know I should lie but lying to a priest won’t exactly help me reach the goal of absolution.
“I can’t offer absolution if you aren’t sorry.”
“That’s not how it worked with Father Rossi.”
The priest goes still. By now word has probably spread about Father Rossi’s mysterious disappearance. Does this guy suspect I’m confessing to Rossi’s murder? He wouldn’t be completely wrong. But Rossi is only a small fraction of the whole.
“Why are you at confession if you don’t feel guilt?”
“I’m Catholic,” I say as if this needs explaining. “I can’t partake of the body and blood with mortal sins on my soul.”
“But you don’t see them as sins in your heart, do you?”
“Fuck no, I don’t. Excuse me, Father.”
“It’s quite all right. I’ve heard worse.”
I take a deep breath. “No, I don’t see what I did as wrong, but it doesn’t matter what I think. They’re officially mortal sins. Look, I understand that there are rules and ways things are done. But if you knew what they did to her, you would have handed me the knife and cheered me on.”
By this point, I think the priest is beginning to understand that we’re talking about killing with multiple victims, though the men I’ve killed are not by anyone’s definition… victims.
“I… I don’t think I would…” he stammers.
“Do you have a soul?” I ask.
“I… yes of course…”
“Then you would. I’m not sorry. End of discussion.”
“The bible tells us that vengeance belongs to the Lord.”
“That’s fine, but he needs a weapon, and that’s me.”
I worry for a second the priest might pass out from this level of sacrilege. But he’s more steady and tough than I expect.
“Is there anything you’ve done that you consider truly wrong?” he asks gently, and I’m not sure if his tone is because he thinks I’m dangerous and unstable or if he’s genuinely trying to empathize with me.
“I try not to do anything I find truly wrong. I take my faith seriously, but I just can’t agree to some of its tenants. Like, I don’t love my enemies, especially when they hurt people I love. Love is not so cheap that it should be handed around to every random stranger on the street. And I would never turn the other cheek. It’s just not in me. But I don’t harm the innocent.”
He sighs. “That’s something to build on, I suppose.”
There is a long pause and the priest finally says, “Jesus tells us to follow his example to love everyone.”