Calvary

St. Peters Catholic Church Roath, Cardiff, UK March 29, 2024, 9:15 GMT

“My God, I am sorry for my sins with all my heart. In choosing to do wrong and failing to do good, I have sinned against you whom I should love above all things. I firmly intend, with your help, to do penance, to sin no more, and to avoid whatever leads me to sin. Our Savior Jesus Christ suffered and died for us.”

“What seems to be troubling you, my son?” The priest’s Welsh accent and the lilt dovetailed nicely into my ears. He seemed pleasant, someone who understood what it meant to listen, to hear the concerns of the people who spent his life caring so much about.

“My past was recently brought into the light in an incredibly public manner,” I responded while trying to make out the priest’s face through the divider in the reconciliation room. A melancholy man, nearer to 70 than 60, his white hair was still full, though a little wild. I imagine he had kind eyes, filled with wisdom and sorrow as he listened to my story.

“You have already atoned for these sins, yes?” Came his reply and I nodded in response. “Absolution cleanses us in the name of God. It should not matter what you had done in the past if you have sought and been granted forgiveness.”

I shrugged and sighed. “These misdeeds still weigh heavy on my shoulders, Father. In a way, they shaped the person I once was and even in absolution, they seem to be shaping the person I’m perceived as. I understand they can only perceive me as they see me, not as God sees me, as an imperfect child. They see me as a deeply flawed man, as a contrarian, an addict, a user, and most importantly to me, a false prophet.”

The priest leaned back in his seat and lifted his head toward the ceiling. “It’s quite understandable that we put so much weight into what others think of us, but you said it yourself. They do not see you as God sees you. Neither of us can judge them, they can’t judge you. Only God can do that. You deserve to walk clearheaded and free of these invasive thoughts others are putting on you. You know where you stand. Your relationship with God is yours and yours alone. They will have to make their choices concerning God when the time comes, but you’re continuing to do the good work. You are faithful and devout, I assume you’re regularly visiting church. What is so awful that they have you questioning yourself?”

I lifted my head to the ceiling and sighed again. This was hard but necessary. “Heroin addiction. I fought for money, food, and drugs in underground fighting rings. There’s a lot of unnecessary violence in my past that was deemed necessary at the time. I didn’t know another way to survive. Someone found videotapes of all of this and played it to coworkers, to strangers, my past was advertised to the entire world.”

I sensed a change in the air as those final words rolled off my tongue, and I think the priest did too. “Father Don, you have nothing to worry about.” I was taken aback. “People will say things to try and cut us deeper than we have cut ourselves. You know they can’t do that. You’re the man you are today because of the tribulations that you've endured. The journey makes the man, Donovan, not what other men think of him.”

“All of this feels so wrong, Father,” I replied. “I wish I had been in the right state of mind when I asked for what I asked for. A crucifixion match on Good Friday? I’m no better than Pontius Pilate, Judas, or the Romans.

“What is the crucifixion of Jesus Christ but a means to reconcile God and Man?” The priest asked. A trick question?

“What do you mean, Father?” I asked in return.

I could tell he was smiling behind the partition. “Do not return a question with a question. Answer me. Think it through.”

I furrowed my brow and sunk my chin into my palms. “Predetermination. Jesus is God’s son. That would make him all-powerful. If he died at Calvary, it was meant to happen. That is God’s will. And if it was predetermined, in their hearts, deep down, even the Romans must have loved Jesus Christ to have aided in God’s divine plan.”

“Very good, Donovan.” He was still smiling. “You’ve got to free yourself from what others think about you. You have reconciled with God, now you have to reconcile them with Him as well. Worry not about the past, it is gone, dead, and buried. Your future begins tonight. There will be time to reconcile, repent, and ask for absolution once more. It will be granted, Donovan. God loves you as He does all his children.”

“Thank you, Father.” I responded. I nodded my hood and went to stand to leave the reconciliation room. As I came out, the priest greeted me in person. He stood a half-foot shorter than I, with a jowly cherubic face with a rosy nose and cheeks. I considered that he was likely a very big fan of red wine.

He embraced me and looked up with a smile, his eyes twinkled in the dancing chandelier light. “Could you join us for service this morning? It would be an honor Father Don.”

I nodded and shook his hand. “It would be my pleasure.” A crowd was beginning to fill in for the 10 AM service, and I took a seat at a pew in the back. I had always enjoyed people watching, and being in a new church, with parishioners I had never seen always filled me with a bit of delight. All these people come together to celebrate something in unison. It’s a truly beautiful sight.

An elderly couple had asked if they could get in beside me and I happily stood and offered them the aisle seat. As I retook my seat, the husband of the couple patted my knee and leaned in close to whisper in my ear.

Affirmation.

“You are His Word. You are His Light. We have faith in you, Father.”

I sat back in stunned silence, as my mind started to ask the question. “How do I keep running into people who know?”

I was quickly wrapped up in the organ coming to life, standing with the rest of the congregation as the choir led us in a rendition of At the Cross.

At the cross I bow the knee Where Your blood was shed for me There’s no greater love than this, no