Act of Contrition

"For your penance say ten Hail Mary's and five Our Father's. Now give me a good act of contrition."

"Oh, my God, I am heartily sorry for having offended thee, and I ..."

The priest tucked his finger through the curtain. A girl, or more like a young woman, knelt in the pew. Petite, short dark hair, she knelt with her hands clasped, gazing at the altar. Last one, God willing. He checked his watch. With any luck he'd be out of there and back in the rectory in ten minutes, a single-malt scotch in hand.

"...confess my sins, to do penance, and amend my life. Amen."

"Go and sin no more. In the name of the Father, and of the Son, and the Holy Spirit. Amen."

The kneeler creaked as the man removed his bulk from the confessional. Creaked again, but less so, when the girl came in.

"Bless me Father for I have sinned. It has been... I don't know. It's been a while. I kind of got away from the Church."

"And you came back, why?"

"I... I've heard about some of the changes the new Pope has installed and they sound better than what I grew up with."

"It's not a matter of your judging the Church. As a Catholic you're expected to follow the rules, but, yes, sometimes the rules change. What is your confession?"

"I... I don't know. I don't lie. I don't steal. I honor my parents."

"Are you a virgin?"

"I, uh, no."

"Then you have dishonored your parents and more importantly your Holy Father. But in the big scheme of things it's not so bad. Do you have any questions about the Church's position on sexuality. It's position on birth control?"

"No, Father. I think I know the rules."

"Okay. Go on."

She did. She had a lovely voice. Not one of those little girl voices, you know? Where every question sounds like a question? Her voice was soft, well-modulated. It washed over him like a sweet caress.

The girl droned on about her life, growing up, doubts, leaving the Church, feeling compelled to come back.

They spoke for almost an hour. There was something, some connection. He listened to her story, drew her out. They could be sitting in a bar somewhere chatting over a glass of wine.

When she'd wound down the priest said, "I see. You have sinned, you know, serious sins, missing Mass, not taking the sacrament."

"Yes."

"And you are truly sorry?"

"Yes, Father."

"For your penance..."

The priest thought for a moment.

"Are you aware of the new Church doctrines regarding sex?"

"No, Father. But I read that His Holiness has reinstituted indulgences."

"Well, no that's not actually correct. He allows those of certain means to demonstrate their commitment to the Church, to God. There is disagreement in the Church as to whether faith alone is enough, or whether you have to demonstrate your faith in a more, er, tangible manner, through contributions, through good works, other ways."

"Yes, Father."

"His Holiness has recently changed the Church's stance on homosexuality."

"Yes, I read that. He said that while he disapproved he was in no position to judge."

The priest stifled a chuckle. If the Pope was in no position to judge the living who was?

"He's made... he's made another observation. It has to do with celibacy among the clergy, priests and nuns and whatnot."

"Oh?"

"Yes. We take a vow of chastity, but His Holiness has recently modified that vow. Are you familiar with the Buddhist take on meat?"

"Uh, no. No."

"The Buddha would not kill a sentient being and would not eat meat from an animal that was killed for him. But he would eat meat if offered, if it was a family meal, say, that he was asked to join."

"I didn't know that."

"Mm. Yes. It's much like the, I guess you could call it, the new chastity. We, the clergy, cannot initiate sex. But if sex is offered we can partake. It's a demonstration, if you will, of the confessor's level of contrition. A case of how sorry are you, really? And, of course, it must be with a consenting adult. Male or female."

Silence.

"You are over eighteen I assume."

"I... I, uh, yes."

She didn't run screaming from the confessional. That was a good sign. He pressed the button. There was the sound of a click. The panel separating them slid into the wall. The priest settled back into his chair. The girl searched his face. He smiled at her. It was a nice smile, a warm, welcoming smile. He was neither old nor young. He was, well, fatherly.

She slid off the kneeler down onto the floor. She raised the hem of his cassock.

The priest eased back further into the chair. The thought of a tumbler of scotch forgotten.

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10.10.13