What We Do in Life ...

Bless Me, Father - Part One


by


Reagan Kavanagh

This work of adult fiction, loosely based on characters portrayed by Russell Crowe, includes adult language and experiences; you have been warned.  No copyright infringement on the original work is intended.  Copyright Reagan Kavanagh 2007.



REAGAN
I made the sign of the Cross, and the words fell from my lips as tears gathered in my eyes.
 
“Bless me, Father, for I have sinned.  It has been many years since my last confession.  I accuse myself of the following sins.” 
 
I was sitting in one of the confessional booths in the religion centre on campus.  I'd struggled since Emily's birth and finally realised that my struggle was one of conscience.  I was raised in the Roman Catholic Church; I had attended parochial school until I left for university.  I had twice married men not of my faith and done so in a faith outside my own Catholic denomination; I was divorced.  I had given birth to a child in a marriage not sanctioned by the Church, and I had not baptised my child in my faith.  Former president Ronald Reagan once said, “You can run, but you can't hide.”  I'm convinced that statement operates to the tenth power if you're a lapsed Catholic.  I knew I was going to Hell.
 
The priest was silent, and I continued.  It amazed me that after all those years I could still remember the prayers.  I took a deep breath and went back automatically to the plea of my youth.
 
“Receive my confession, O most loving and gracious Lord Jesus Christ, only hope for the salvation of my soul.  Grant to me true contrition of soul, so that day and night I may by penance make satisfaction for my many sins.  Saviour of the world, O good Jesus, Who gave Yourself to the death of the Cross to save sinners, look upon me, most wretched of all sinners; have pity on me, and give me the light to know my sins, true sorrow for them, and a firm purpose of never committing them again.

“O gracious Virgin Mary, Immaculate Mother of Jesus, I implore you to obtain for me by your powerful intercession these graces from your Divine Son.

“St. Joseph, pray for me.”  The priest's voice was low and soothing when he spoke.
 
“What are your sins, my Child?”  I took a deep breath.
 
“There are so many, Father …I don't know where to begin with the listing of them.  Some are mortal, others are venial.  I need to confess all of them.”
 
“What troubles you most?”
 
“I was raised in the Church but have not attended Mass in many years.”
 
“Have you been ill or infirm, stricken with a condition that made you unable to attend mass?”
 
“No, Father.  I entered a profession that took me away from the Church physically, and I lived in a country in which only one religion was practised.    Those happenings do not excuse me.  I could have continued my devotions and duties privately.  I did not do so.  Mea culpa, Father.”  Mea culpa …my fault, my fault, my most grievous fault.  Many non-Catholics read fault as an error; Catholics refer to in the sense of a flaw within oneself, a self-accusation, and that accusation means one of being wilfully away from God.
 
“What else, my Child?  The pain in your voice tells me there is more.”
 
“I married outside the Church, a man not of my faith.  We later divorced.  I stopped attending Mass and Confession after that.  I have married again – also outside the Church – and he is not of my faith.  We have a child.  She has not been baptised.”  I could hear the smile in his voice when he spoke.
 
“Is it concern for the immortal soul of your child that brings you to this crisis of conscience?”
 
“Not entirely, though she is the most recent issue.”
 
“How old is your daughter?”
 
“Not quite five months.  It is my wish to return to the faith of my childhood, and raise my daughter a good Catholic as my mother attempted to do with me.”
 
“Is your husband amenable to this?”
 
“We have spoken about it …he says he will do whatever comforts me.”
 
“Is he a man of faith?  Would he consider becoming Catholic and raising your child together in our faith?”
 
That question wasn't going to be so easy to answer.  How do you tell a priest that your husband prays to gods not recognised since the fall of the Empire?  The simple answer is that you don't.  As a soldier, the Roman god to whom Max had prayed most often was Mithras, god of war and of soldiers.  He does pray every day – he has his altar in our bedroom – as do I.  We just didn't do it according to Catholic ritual.  Would he consider becoming Catholic?  I had no idea; I'd never asked him.
 
“He is a man of faith, Father, and he prays daily.  I do not know if he would convert; in truth, I have not asked him about that possibility.”  His voice was patient as he probed again.
 
“And your other sins?”
 
“I have not honoured my father, not during his life and not since his death.  He was unfaithful to my mother; he caused her much pain.  I was silent witness to that.  When I was eight years of age, he told me he had never wanted children.  I never forgave him for that.  My mother was Catholic, and although my parents were married in the Church, my father never converted.  My mother raised me in our faith; I have strayed from it.”
 
“And …?”
 
“I have had sexual relations outside my marriages – I have fornicated though I have never committed adultery.  I have had sexual relations with no intention of conceiving a child; I have taken precautions to prevent conception.  I have had lustful thoughts about men other than the men to whom I have been married.”  I now had a full head of steam and said it all.
 
“I have been guilty of the sin of pride – I still am – in my profession and my intelligence.  Other than the day I married my husband, I do not recall the last time I partook of any of the Holy sacraments, and that sacrament was not in the Catholic Church.”  The priest was silent for several seconds.
 
“Is there anything else?”
 
“Isn't that enough, Father?”  No response.  “Yes, that's all I can think of at present.”  I'd made a list, actually written down all of it so I'd not forget anything.  I'd made an appointment for this confession, as it's Catholic etiquette that if your confession is likely to take more than 15 minutes, it's only considerate to schedule it with the priest so that others aren't kept waiting.  I counted to 23 before he spoke again.
 
“You said you have not committed adultery ….”
 
“I have not, Father.  I was faithful to my first husband, and I cannot imagine not being faithful to Max, my husband now and the father of my child.  I have committed the sin of fornication because I have had sexual relations with men to whom I was not married.  The men with whom I had those relations were also unmarried, thus there was no adulterous relationship.”
 
“You know that all sins are forgiven those who truly repent of their misdeeds …do you truly repent of your sins, both mortal and venial?”
 
“I do, Father.”
 
“Is it your intention to return to the Church and continue your life as a good and practising Catholic and to raise your child in the Faith?”
 
“Yes, Father, it is.”
 
“And will you speak with your husband?  Will you do your duty as a good Catholic and encourage him to pursue religious training and conversion?”
 
“I will, Father.”
 
“Pray the Act of Contrition with me.”  Our voices joined in the ancient prayer.
 
“O my God, I am heartily sorry for having offended You.  I detest all my sins because of your just punishments, but most of all because they offend You, my God, who are all good and deserving of all my love.  I firmly resolve, with the help of Your grace, to sin no more and to avoid the occasions of sin. Amen.”  The priest was silent for a moment before assigning my penance.
 
“For your penance, say ten Hail Marys and ten Our Fathers.  Make a good act of contrition – our Lord will speak to your heart on what is best, and you will know His voice.”
 
“Thank you, Father.”
 
“Will I hear your confession again?”
 
“Yes, Father.  I will return next week.”  I ended with the traditional after confession prayer.
 
“O almighty and most merciful God, I give You thanks with all the powers of my soul for this and all other mercies, graces, and blessings bestowed on me, and prostrating myself at Your sacred feet, I offer myself to be henceforth forever Yours.  Let nothing in life or death ever separate me from You.  I renounce with my whole soul all my treasons against You, and all the abominations and sins of my past life.  I renew my promises made in Baptism, and from this moment I dedicate myself eternally to Your love and service.  Grant that for the time to come, I may detest sin more than death itself, and avoid all such occasions and companies as have unhappily brought me to it.  This I resolve to do by the aid of Your divine grace, without which I can do nothing. Amen.”
 
I rose from my knees and left the confessional.  When I walked out of the religion centre, the sun seemed brighter, and I could feel an almost physical weight lifted from me.
 
 
MAXIMUS
I could sense her spirit was lighter from the moment I entered our home.  She had greeted me at the door with Emily in her arms, raising her face for my kiss before I took Emily and held her close to my heart.  Cassandra followed me to the nursery, and I placed our drowsy child into her crib.
 
“I've just finished feeding her.  I tried to time it so you could kiss her before she went to sleep.”
 
“You have succeeded, Cara.”  I put my arm round her shoulders as we returned to the lounge.
 
“You seem lighter of spirit tonight.  Is there a specific reason, perhaps something you wish to tell me?”  She sat beside me and was silent for a moment before answering.
 
“I went to confession today.  There's a priest on campus.”  Ah …she has unburdened herself of what she believes to be her sins.  We have occasionally discussed the faith of her childhood, and I have suspected for some time her wish to return to it.
 
“And what did the priest say?”
 
“He gave me absolution for my sins and prescribed my penance.  I told him I'd be back next week.”  She turned to look me fully in the face.
 
“Max, good practising Catholics make confession each week.  We also attend Mass each week and observe the sacraments.”  I nodded; she had told me of this. 
 
“Is it your intention to return to the faith of your youth?”
 
“Yes …and I'd like to have Emily baptised in the Church and raise her as a Catholic.  I suppose giving birth has made me reflective.”  So it would seem.  “I'd also like you to consider conversion to Catholicism yourself.  It would be far easier to raise our child in the Church if her parents were practising the same faith.  I won't push you, but I would appreciate your considering the possibility.”
 
“I see.”  I had thought on the matter simply because I felt the day would come when she would ask this of me.  I was not opposed to the notion, though I would require more information before reaching a decision.
 
“What would be required of me to make such a conversion?”
 
“You'd have to attend catechism classes for instruction in the faith.  You'd have to convince the priest of your sincerity in wishing to convert.  You'd have to be baptised …and you'd have to promise to raise Emily and any future children we might have as Catholics.  I know it's asking a lot, and I don't expect an answer from you immediately.”
 
“Are there books I might read on your faith prior to committing myself to instructional classes?”
 
“Of course!  I still have mine from childhood, though I think they'd be better suited for Emily when she's old enough to be confirmed.  I can certainly pick up books for you if you'd like.”
 
“Then do so.  I will read them and think on the matter.”
 
 
She looked as me as we sat to table for dinner.
 
“Would you mind my saying grace?”
 
“Not if it comforts you.”  She nodded before making the sign of the cross and clasping her hands as she bowed her head.  I did likewise with the exception of the sign of the cross.  Though I know little of her faith, I suspected it would be blasphemous of me to do so unless I were to convert.
 
“Bless us, O Lord, and these your gifts, which we are about to receive
from your bounty.  Through Christ our Lord.  Amen.”  She served our plates, and we chatted as we had our meal.
 
“What is required when one makes a confession?”
 
“You acknowledge the sins you've committed since your last confession and ask forgiveness and absolution.  If it's been a long time since you confessed, you confess all you can remember.  It had been so long for me that I made a list of everything I could recall.”
 
“Am I permitted to ask the sorts of things considered sinful?” 
 
“Mine included such things as marrying a man – in my case two of you – not of the Catholic faith.  My divorce.  Fornication.  Failure to ….”  I interrupted her.  When had she fornicated?  I could not imagine her having broken her marriage vows and said so.
 
“Fornication?  How could you be guilty of fornication?  I will not believe you have broken your troth given on the day of our marriage.”  She smiled as she put her wine glass on the table.  She has begun taking a small glass of wine with her meals.  Sharon assured both of us that one glass of wine would bring no harm to Emily.  Our daughter is on prepared infant food and a bottle now, though still nurses at her mother's breast before sleeping each night.  Cassandra had returned to her office at the University on two days each week; she said she had much to accomplish before returning to her teaching duties in the fall.  I was less than pleased at that announcement but kept my silence.
 
“There's a common misconception amongst non-Catholics about the definitions of adultery and fornication.  Adultery is having sex with someone who's married …one – or both – of the involved parties has to be married to make it adultery.  I'm guilty of the sin of fornication because I had sex with you before we married.  The same was true with Bill …and with the men I slept with before marrying Bill and in the interim between divorcing Bill and meeting you.  I've never had sex with a married man other than my husbands.  I'm not guilty of adultery so far as I know.”  I digested that for a moment.
 
“If neither party is married, the sin is one of fornication rather than adultery.”  She nodded.  I thought further.
 
“Given those definitions, I am guilty of both sins.”
 
“There's always forgiveness, Max, if you ask for it.  The only proviso is that you're truly regretful for having committed the sin and will try not to do it again.”
 
“Is your God always so forgiving?” 
 
“Yes, He is.”
 
“And what of murder?”  The death of Ethelinde's husband still weighed heavily on my conscience.
 
“Are you sorry for having arranged the death of Ethelinde's husband?”
 
“More than you or anyone could ever realise.”
 
“Then you can be forgiven if you confess it to a priest.  He would give you absolution and penance.  That won't take away your regret for what you've done, but the sin wouldn't be held against you or keep you from the glory of Heaven when you die.”  I was now becoming confused.
 
“How can a priest – a man – give me absolution and forgive my sin?  I thought only a god could do that.”
 
“You're right in that respect …God is the only one who can forgive our sins, but a priest is His representative on earth.  The absolution given by the priest is the spoken acknowledgement – the corporeal statement – that God forgives you; your penance – your behaviour in atonement for your sins – is to show God that you truly are sorry for having sinned, and your pledge not to commit that sin again.”
 
“I see.”  In truth, I did not, but at this juncture it seemed a reasonable thing to say.  If I thought to put that small untruth past her, I was to be disappointed.  Her understanding smile kept the sting from her words.
 
“No, you don't, at least not now.  If you study the catechism and convert, you will.”
 
“I think you had best find the books for me to read.”
 
 
REAGAN
I'd not expected that conversation to go so easily, but perhaps Max is more willing to embrace Christianity than I'd thought.
 
I know he's going to be horrified when he gets into the catechism, when he reads about mortal and venial sins.  He's going to think he's destined to burn in Hell throughout eternity instead of enjoying the Afterlife as he's always prayed would be the case.  Still, he's voiced concern that his behaviour in that earlier life would keep him from Elysium, and that he'd spend eternity wandering the wastelands of Hades.  Perhaps conversion is the answer to his prayers.
 
 
“Forgive me, Father, for I have sinned.  It has been one week since my last confession.  I accuse myself of the following sins.”  I heard the low chuckle of the priest on the other side of the grill work in the confessional.
 
“Bless you, my Child.  You have returned.”
 
“I have, Father.  My sins this week have been less serious than those confessed previously, but they trouble me.”
 
“Tell me of them, and together we shall seek your absolution.”
 
“I ignored my husband's unspoken request for marital relations two nights ago.  Our child had been fractious all day, and I was tired.  He didn't force himself on me – he never has – and I went to sleep almost immediately.  I woke during the night feeling guilty.”
 
“What else?”
 
“I was short with a friend on the telephone.  My daughter was crying, and I needed to take care of her.  I don't think I was actually rude, but I wasn't far from it.  She's my oldest friend; she deserves better from me.”
 
“These are but venial sins, my Child.  Are there more serious matters you wish to confess?”  I'd thought about that on my drive in to the campus and could honestly say there weren't.  I'd made a pretty clean sweep last week.
 
“No, Father.  This week it all seems pretty trivial compared to my last confession, but they still trouble me.”
 
“They trouble you because you are making your way back to God and again thinking like a woman in Christ.”  I thought on that for a few moments.
 
“Father, am I truly making my way back to faith, or am I fearful of the pains of Hell?”  I could see his smile through the grating.
 
“It has been my experience that for one who has strayed from the Church, the two often go hand-in-hand.  Your fear of Hell and the loss of our Lord spurs your return to the faith.  God does not care what brings you home; He cares only that you return to Him.”
 
 
Max had been reading dutifully since I brought home books for him on Catholicism.  Tonight he put down the book in his hands and turned to me.
 
“I do not see that conversion to your faith will save me from condemnation.  I have committed mortal sins, many of them.  I have wilfully killed other men in battle; I have committed adultery.”  The pain in his voice and eyes was more intense than I'd seen since the night he told me about Ethelinde and her husband.
 
“Caro, we both did things in that life that are considered sins by the standards of modern Christianity.  The Christian faith was only beginning to gain a foothold when we were in that life.  We were Roman; Romans worshipped an entire pantheon of gods.  We didn't know differently.  God forgives our ignorance so long as we confess our sins and make a good effort to live in His way.”  He considered that for a moment and then nailed me.
 
“And have you told this priest of our origins?  Does he know that we lived 2000 years in the past and now live again?”
 
“Ummm, no, I haven't mentioned that.”
 
“And what will happen when you do, and he divulges that information?  Have you thought on that?”  Thank God for the sanctity of the Confessional.
 
“He can't reveal anything told him in the privacy of Holy confession.  What is said in confession is inviolate.  The law can't force him to tell, and his ethics – the Holy Seal – will not allow him to speak of what he's heard.  The clergy couldn't function if they were bound by law to disclose what they hear in confidence.  You don't have to worry about the priest revealing what one of us might tell him and having the authorities drop a net over us.  He might suggest we seek the services of a competent mental health professional, but he'll never repeat what he's heard. ”
 
He seemed to mull that over, nodded thoughtfully, and returned to his reading.
 
 
MAXIMUS
I was more than intrigued by my readings in my wife's faith.  It was far more complex than the religions of my previous life when one was concerned only with making the appropriate sacrifices in order to appease the gods and turn aside their anger or invoke their beneficence.  Though the phrase is trite, it is nonetheless true; life was more simple then.  My efforts in understanding this new faith was thrust into greater significance as we sat to dinner several weeks following my wife's return to the Church.
 
“I'd like to have Emily baptised.”  I saw no harm in that.  If baptising our child in the Church would keep her safe and insure her entry into Elysium, it seemed a good idea.
 
“I have no objection.”  She put down her fork as she looked at me.
 
“Max, I want her baptised a Catholic.  That means we have to agree to raise her as a Catholic.  Can you live with that?”  Her request and the accompanying requirements did not offend me.
 
“I can.  If it is your wish to raise our daughter in your faith, I consider the request reasonable.  Though I have not embraced this new faith, I do feel a child should be raised to respect the gods …or in this case, your Christian God.”  She was silent for a moment.
 
“Have you given any further thought to conversion?”
 
“I have not yet finished my readings and cannot make a decision until that time.  Is my lack of conversion a hindrance to Emily's baptism?”
 
“No, but the priest will ask if we are in agreement to raise her in the Catholic faith …and he will also ask if you intend to convert.  He won't press you for an answer to that second question, but he will encourage it – any member of the clergy would – and he will expect an answer eventually.  As long as you agree to raise Emily as a Catholic, we can go ahead with her baptism.”  I reached across the table to take her hand.
 
“Then call your priest and set a date for this ceremony.  I agree to raising our daughter in your faith.”
 
 
REAGAN
I'd been sitting at my kitchen table and staring out the window for more than an hour.  I wasn't any closer to a solution than I had been a week ago.  I was at peace with myself for having returned to my faith but doing so had presented an entirely new set of problems where baptism of our daughter was concerned.
 
Before Emily was born – before I even got pregnant with her and at the point she was only the proverbial gleam in her father's eyes – I'd basically asked Dee to be her godmother; it was a given that we'd ask Terry to be godfather, and we'd done so before Emily arrived.  It seemed logical at the time; now it was a horrible mess.  The entire reason for asking someone to be your child's godparent is to provide the child with someone to support them in their pursuit of being a good Christian.  The Catholic Church requires godparents to be Catholics. 
 
Dee was born and raised in the Baptist Church, and other than Ellie and my weddings, I doubted she'd been in a Church in 20 years.  Terry was Anglican, Church of England; that's a lot closer to Catholicism than the Baptist Church, but it still wouldn't work.  Dee would be terribly wounded if I reneged on asking her to be Emily's godmother, and I couldn't blame her in the least.  I'd never be able to make a non-Catholic understand the requirements of my faith.
 
My second choice for godparents would be Ellie and Dino; they were Catholic, but they weren't practising Catholics, and that's also a strict requirement.  I was stuck.  There weren't any other possibilities, at least none that I'd trust to raise my child if something should happen to Max and me.  The best I'd be able to do would be to ask Dee and Terry to be Emily's witnesses in her faith.  It seemed strange that I could have my daughter baptised when her father wasn't even a Christian but couldn't ask my best friend – who was Christian in spite of not going to Church each Sunday – to be her godmother.  I suppose anyone of any faith occasionally encounters aspects of their faith that they have difficulty understanding.
 
 
MAXIMUS
It was clear she was troubled in the extreme when I arrived home this night.  Her eyes were swollen from her tears.  She does not weep often nor does she weep for no reason; I was more than worried.
 
“What is it, Cara?  Why have you been weeping?”
 
“Oh, God, Max, I've gotten myself into a horrible mess, and I don't know how to fix it.”  I removed my coat and tossed it aside before taking her in my arms and holding her to my heart.
 
“Come and sit.  There is nothing so dire that we cannot find a remedy.”  She sniffled as we walked to the lounge and sat with her close to my side.
 
“Tell me what troubles you.”
 
“Do you remember the night of the dinner at the Country Club when the firm announced Sooze's new title?”
 
“Of course.  What has that to do with your concern this night?”
 
“That was the night we asked Terry and Dee to be Emily's godparents.”
 
“Yes …why does that trouble you?”  My question was met with a sob before she recovered herself sufficiently to speak.
 
“Because they aren't Catholic!  I've returned to Catholicism.  You're considering conversion.  Have you gotten to the part in your readings that discusses godparents?”
 
Now I understood her dismay.  I had read that portion; why I had not considered its applications to our personal lives and that of our child and our friends I did not know.  I removed my arm from round her shoulders and sat forward, resting my arms on my knees before turning to look at her.
 
“I see.  Surely there is a way round that restriction; surely there is an accommodation that may be made.”  She shook her head as tears streamed from her eyes.
 
“There isn't, Max, and there's no point in asking.  It won't happen.”
 
“Perhaps if we spoke with your priest and explained the situation …if he were to meet Terry and Diana, surely he would agree they are suitable to be Emily's godparents.”  She again shook her head in dismay.
 
“It doesn't matter whether he likes them or not; all that matters is that they aren't Catholic, and because of that one little reality, they aren't acceptable as her godparents.”
 
“That makes no sense whatever.  Are you telling me that Terry could be no better than Tamir Omar Khan and Diana a whore, but if they were of the Catholic faith and we were to ask them to stand as our child's godparents, they would be approved?”
 
“That's about the size of it.”
 
I felt the rage burn within me; the words left my lips before I could halt them.
 
“You ask me to convert to a faith that ignores the righteousness of a person simply because they have not declared an affiliation with that faith?  Have you taken leave of your senses?”
 
 

NOTES

Mortal vs. Venial Sins

Mortal sins are willfully committed, serious transgressions against the law of God, depriving the soul of divine grace. Mortal sins include blasphemy, murder, adultery, gluttony, avarice, sloth, envy, and anger; their commission is so heinous that it deprives the soul of sanctifying grace and causes damnation if unpardoned at the time of death.  Mortal sins are considered 'capital' (i.e., deadly) sins because they necessarily give rise to the commission of other sins. Venial sins are transgressions against the law of God but do not deprive the soul of divine grace either because the act is a minor offense or because it was committed without full understanding of its seriousness or without full consent of the will.  Venial sins are regarded as entailing only a partial loss of grace.  Venial sins include such things as cheating on an exam; though done intentionally, it is forgiven if one admits what one did and pays the temporal penalty (e.g., cheating on an exam and loss of a grade, a failing grade in the course, etc.) as well as performing acts of charity (“Say three Our Fathers, three Hail Marys, and MAKE A GOOD ACT OF CONTRITION) to compensate for the fall from grace.

Tamir Omar Khan

See “Veronica” and “Ransom.”  Khan is the man who killed the children in the Middle East (Veronica) and attempted to kill Reagan (Ransom).

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