Act of Contrition

 

Father Logan hated the first Saturday of every month when he was the one who was assigned to hear confessions. It was always the same thing, people wanting forgiveness for their actions and then committing them again the moment they leave the confessional, only to return the following week to confess them all over again. Rinse and repeat.

​He wanted to get this over with. He was excited about next week when he would begin coaching the church boys, basketball team. Sweet young meat. God how he wished the heat was off ever since news had gotten out about the others.

​What did the public expect?

​Priests had the same needs as everyone else, but because they had pledged themselves to God’s service, they had to put all of that aside? A priest had to take it where he could get it and it wasn’t like the little bastards did not want it anyway,

​Things had sucked ever since that German, Ratzinger’s papacy. One ballyhood trip to the United States where Benedict stated that he was ashamed of what had happened and from that point on, the blanket of protection that Father Logan and the others had counted on in the past was gone. No more Cardinal Law’s relocated to Rome. If a priest was caught, he was on his own and shit out of luck. A little fear struck into the hearts of the boys was guaranteed to ensure their silence. The threat of Hell always worked.

​Father Logan realized that he was not listening to the woman in the other side of the confessional.

​“Are you truly sorry for your sins?” Father Logan asked faking his way through, but guessing that’s where they were in the confession.

​“Yes, Father.”

​“Then by the power of the Lord God, I absolve you of your sins. You are to say the Rosary as contrition.”

​“Oh my God, I am heartily sorry for having offended thee. I detest all my sins because I dread the loss of heaven and fear the fires of hell, but most of all, because I have offended thee, my God, who art good and deserving of all my love, I firmly resolve with the help of by grace, to sin no more and to avoid the occasion of sin. Amen.”

​“Amen,” said Father Logan.

​The woman vacated the confession booth leaving Father Logan alone with his angry thoughts, although he was not allowed time with them for long.

​The sound of the opening of the confession booth door signaled the arrival of a new confessor.

​“Bless me Father for I have sinned. It has been one month since my last confession.”

​“And why have you gone so long?” asked Father Logan. 

​“I have been traveling,” said the voice in an accent that Father Logan placed as Italian.

​“Do you live in Italy?” asked Father Logan, genuinely curious.

​“Yes, Father. I am from Milan, but live in Rome.”

​Lucky bastard. He would have done anything to live in Rome. The chance to live and serve at the Vatican had always been a dream of Father Logan’s and if not the Holy See, then at least at one of the city’s hundreds of old churches. He guessed he could get all the sweet young boys he wanted there and never have to worry about being arrested.

​“Where have you been traveling to?”

​The Italian paused before answering, and then…

​“I have been visiting many churches across the United States and Europe.”

​“On a spiritual journey perhaps?” 

​“Yes, Father. I am visiting these many places in order to save my soul.”

​“What have you done to feel you must visit so many different churches in order to do this?” asked Father Logan.

​“I have killed people, Father. Many People.”

​Father Logan was felt a mixture of excitement and fear. Finally, a confession worth hearing.

​“How did this come about, the killing of all these people?”

​Who knew, he might learn something useful for a future time.

​“I came up very poor as a boy, Father, and wanted to change that. In my country, often the only refuge when you are poor is either crime or the church. I chose crime.”

​“Why not the church?” asked Father Logan.

​The Italian sighed audibly.

​“I did not receive the calling and it is doubtful I’d have listened if I had. As a child, I saw so many people living comfortable lives that to become like them was the only thing that mattered to me.”

​Father Logan understood that reasoning easily enough, only what mattered to him was to become a prince of the church and wear the red robes of a cardinal.

​“When I was eleven, I was running errands for the local mafia and killed my first man at seventeen.”

​“How did you feel after committing such an act?”

​“Terrible. To commit crimes is one thing, but to take a life is another thing entirely.” 

​Father Logan was going to speak in response, but the Italian plowed ahead.

​“The only thing worse are those who abuse children.”

​Father Logan felt like he had just been slapped.

​“You see Father, those who molest children are the worst of cowards.”

​Bastard. Who was this man and how did he know who he was?

​“Adults are supposed to protect children, not take away their innocence.”

​Father Logan was now angry. Just who did this man think he was to say these things? And then to call him a coward.

​“Would you like to guess who are the worst among those kind, Father?...Priests, men who take vows to serve God when in fact they are far from doing so.”

​“Why don’t we stick with you…” said Father Logan. The man was ranting, but he had not accused him of anything.

​“It was after many years and many kills that I began to experience a change of heart. I came to understand that while I had become very wealthy, I had only brought misery to the world. I sought out a local priest and confessed all of my sins. Heoffered absolution, but also told me that I must perform act of contrition. I gave away almost all of my wealth, only keeping enough to live on. It was soon after that, I was contacted by the Vatican itself.”

​Hearing the Vatican set Father Logan on edge.

​“And what did they want?” he asked wearily.

​“The priest to whom I had spoken mentioned me to a very powerful cardinal at the Vatican. Without breaking the seal of confession, he informed the cardinal that I was someone he thought I should meet.

​“The Cardinal upon seeing that I was truly repentant suggested that I devote my life to Christby taking orders in one of the brotherhoods of Monks. I accepted.”

​“Congratulations,” said Father Logan sensing that whatever danger he believed himself to be in had been an illusion.

​“It has not happened yet, Father. You see… before I am allowed to join a holy order, I was tasked with performing an act of contrition.”

​Father Logan was tired of listening to this man. What had started out as a promising confessionturned out to be disappointing. A professional killer had come into his midst and had revealed nothing of his past exploits. This was the most disappointing confession in memory. He longed to be in the company of the boys basketball team. Maybe he could wrap up the confessions early and find a boy before the end of the day.

​“It is one of my acts of contrition that has brought me here today, Father Logan.”

​Father Logan, whose mind had been wandering came back into the confession booth like the snap of a ripcord. Had this strange man just called him by name?

“How do you know me?” Father Logan asked.

​“You see Father, my act of contrition as tasked by the Cardinal, is to punish those who have harmed God’s children.”​

“What do you mean?”

The sense of danger that Father Logan had thought fleeting had not only returned but set up camp.

“Oh, the Cardinal has told me all about you Father.You are quite well known in Rome, as are all of your kind. We know who each of you are.”

Fear coursed through Father Logan’s body.

“My act of contrition Father is to be God’s punishment on people like you who harm his children.”

“What do you mean?” asked Father Logan, knowing very well what the man meant. His hands had begun to shake. How had they found out when he had been so careful? One of the boys must have told.

“That is why I have been traveling to so many different churches Father Logan, correcting past mistakes, such as the ones made by you. How many children have you harmed due to your inability to restrain yourself? Well, that hardly matters, one is too many. There will be no further tolerance of this crime Father Logan. Let all throughout the church from priest to parishioner know that to harm a child will result in swift and final judgement.”

“Wait…please,” Father Logan croaked hoarsely. “I must be given absolution or my sins will not be forgiven. I will go to Hell.”

“That’s the intention, Father. You do not deserve absolution nor will you receive it.”

The Italian pointed a pistol with a silencer attached at the heart of Father Logan and fired several times in rapid succession.

As the Italian emerged from the confession booth,a mother with a small child entered the church holding her daughter by the hand. He smiled at both as they passed in the aisle. Before leaving, he stopped, dipped his finger into the holy water at the entrance, crossed himself and went out the door.