Kyrie eleison, Christe eleison

"Kyrie eleison, Christe eleison".

The euphonious petitions of the choir ring through the high walls of the church. Our priest swings a luxurious golden globe of myrrh incense, while one of the clergy boys sprays holy water at the congregation. The droplets land at my feet and I run the soles of my Converse over them; for these thoughts that inhabit my mind, I will need all the purifying I can get. Behind the alter there's a cathedral glass portrait of Mary mother of Jesus. My eyes stay glued to it and all I feel is a borrowing pit in my stomach. The more my mind works, the faster my heart beats and suddenly the hymns sound like clashing pots and the smoke strangles my throat. I bolt towards the exit. Is this what it feels like to be possessed?

Outside I steady myself against the stone walls and attempt to organize my mind. It's unnerving how internally I feel as though I've been thrust into Gehenna, yet cool, crisp air kisses my skin; there's flourishing greenery, and a painted blue sky that stretches on for kilometres above me. If I didn't know better I'd say it was God exercising his twisted sense of humour. I think of a time when this would've been another slow Sunday morning; I'd take it all in, no questions asked, warm and wrapped up in a coat of sweet obliviousness. Now it feels as though a deep, dark wave has descended onto my shores. I suppose my house is not built on concrete after all.

In order to prevent a state of full panic, I need to seek council. The looming bronze bell above the church's entrance chimes to signal the end of the service, and I make my way towards the back entrance of the chapel quick enough to avoid an encounter with the rest of my family. Inside I see him, clad in pure white and rich, crimson robes, silently putting out candles. I've always admired how in this state he resembles the pope; holy and worthy of respect. As always, I am mesmerised.

 His voice yanks me back to reality, "Anu, is everything okay?". The sincere tone makes me want to get on my knees and beg for deliverance and atonement or better yet run home and ignore all of it, but I can't, the secrets I harbour beg for me to let them see the light.

"I need to make a confession father", a foreign husky voice says. Father Ian furrows his eyebrows in slight concern, "A confession?". Vertigo threatens to knock me off balance, I desperately cling onto the benches, and stumble my way to a seat. "Yes, there's something that happened...I need your help". He takes the space beside me, " Whatever it is, you can trust me; I along with the Holy Spirit will help you", an affectionate smile dances at his lips. I can feel the bloody crescent marks forming along my palms as my nails dig into them, it takes more than an effort to unscrew my jaw and get the following words out, " I have become the biggest sin of all, I don't think I believe in any of it". My words are a vicious wind and his smile is a flame, I quickly turn away.

The silence between us is pregnant with emotion. Finally he says, "What do you mean, you don't believe in any of it?". I can barely hear my own voice over the rapid pound of my heart when I reply, " I don't think God or the Son of Man or any of it is real". I've finally said it, it's all out, bare infront of me and I can't take it back. The tears come without warning, and my shoulders collapse as quiet sobs escape from me. Next to me there's only stillness. When I turn to look over at Father Ian, his eyes are closed and it seems as though he is in a state of prayer.

"I tried holding on to my faith for so long...", I say, using my sleeve to wipe my face. " None if it makes sense and I don't think anything will change anytime soon and I'm afraid", my voice is several decibels higher and I keep going, "A few weeks ago I saw a beggar...a man, on the side of the road, he's always there but for the first time I saw him, and I thought and wondered about him and then I began to wonder about all the other people like him. Not beggars...but everyone who is discarded and abandoned by society, I thought about things like racism and homophobia and sexism and vicious wars, I've had these worries before but it's not the same anymore. For the first time ever, they haunt me. As soon as my eyes open in the morning, until they close in the evening", I'm standing now and he looks up at me.

" God sends us here for different purposes, do you think that you're the first faithful man to see the evils of the world and doubt? God's ways are a mystery and our only purpose is to trust and serve Him", he says in a serene but stern voice, as always. I'm sick of blind faith.

 "Is that what you have to say?", I kiss my teeth, " Your sage answer is that we're some pawns in a mad man's game and the only winning play is that we praise him lest we end up in a scorching inferno?", my voice rises once again, "you're not God, you don't fancy yourself perfect and holier than thou, tell me...do you consider any finite crime committed on earth worth burning in eternity for, I doubt you'd have the heart to kill a murderer let alone a petty thief if you could! you're only a man yet still, you're better than Him".

His eyes hunt my face for something, or someone he once knew; after a moment he let's out a deep, defeated exhale, "What do you want me to say? God makes sense to me, I took an oath to preach what I know to be the truth in the deepest chambers of my heart and that's all I can say about that", a tear carves the curve of his nose.

Calmly, I resign to my seat, " I don't know what I wanted you to say either, there are so many questions and I get scared that I'm losing it... and there's this tiny part of me that keeps wondering if I'm wrong and hell is real, however, the most prominent emotion is guilt".

 " What are you guilty about?".

" I don't know dad everything and nothing", I croak as my head falls onto his lap.

 " Do you still love me?"; I have memories of him preaching of the obedience of Abraham and admirable loyalty to God. " If love could be extinguished so easily, I'd be a pagan". And together we cry for all that we know and all that we don't. I think this is enough for now.

"Lord have mercy, Lord have mercy", as he kisses my head.