And forgive us our trespasses.

Eric crossed the threshold of the temple hesitantly, looking around, but he couldn’t see much—his nerves had gotten the better of him. Slowly, with his shoulders hunched and his head lowered to the ground—like an ostrich trying to bury its head in the sand—he shuffled to one of the pews, sat down, and then dropped to his knees on the wooden kneeler. He didn’t really know what to say. He had never prayed to God before, but now he felt he should be here… After all, he had been baptized. Well, it was his parents who had him baptized—he hadn't been aware of it at the time, so he wondered whether the ceremony was even valid in the eyes of the law. As he scanned the rules of Holy Baptism and its vows, he suddenly realized how many promises made in this place were hollow.

"Priest: Let us pray that Almighty God may grant these children new life from water and the Holy Spirit. Then the priest pronounces a blessing over the water (and blesses the water if necessary).

After addressing the parents and godparents, he asks them:

P: Do you renounce sin, so as to live in the freedom of the children of God?

Parents and godparents: We do.

P: Do you renounce all that leads to evil, so that sin may not enslave you? Parents and godparents: We do.

P: Do you renounce Satan, the author and prince of sin?

Parents and godparents: We do."

How many lies have been spoken before the altar, before God? In this place, there is no faith. If there were, people would take the meaning of these words more seriously. What’s the truth? How does it all work? Eric felt like something was slipping through his fingers. Kneeling there, lost in thought about the church, he completely forgot why he had even come—his own sins and guilt faded away, replaced by the sins of the Church. How much had faith turned into tradition, and to what extent did it remain true belief? As an atheist, he had never been particularly interested in these matters, but after staring death in the face, something had driven him here, planting the seeds of these thoughts.

"Do you renounce evil?" Eric repeated over and over in his mind. What nonsense. His parents were like demons in human skin—violence, alcohol, and hateful arguments filled their home. How had they even come here, only to lie and then go on to ruin his life? Looking back, it seemed like hardly anyone lived by any sort of morality, decency, or loyalty.

“This world’s gone to the dogs, and I’ve gone with it,” he thought. "And there's probably nothing here for me anyway—this all seems like one big lie, the business of the century, that’s all." He was already starting to rise, planning to leave the church, having decided it wasn’t worthy of his trust, when suddenly he heard a voice:

“Did you come to see me?”

Eric looked around nervously, trying to see who had spoken, but there was no one in sight.

“I’m sitting here, in the confessional.”

“Right,” Eric muttered, noticing the confessional. “So what do I do now?” he asked, completely forgetting that just moments ago, he had been ready to leave, convinced the church wasn’t a place he could trust.

“Please approach the confessional and kneel,” the reverend replied.

So, he did. He knelt in the wooden booth, separated from the priest by a small plastic screen and some wooden ornaments. He couldn’t make out the priest’s face, not just because of the screen that divided them—the reverend was propping his head on his hand and had only brought his ear close to the opening.

"I’m listening, my son."

“Oh, trust me, you wouldn’t want me as your son.”

“We are all children of God.”

“Even me?”

“Of course, everyone, without exception—but you must accept God as your Father.”

“He’d probably do a better job than my biological one. But he’s no longer with us.”

“My deepest condolences.”

“You don’t understand, it’s great news.”

“What do you mean, my son?”

“I killed him. I murdered him with premeditation. I stabbed him 20 times. Deliberately, by the way—one stab for each year of life he destroyed. Then I took his body, tied stones to all his limbs, and drowned him in the fast-flowing river.”

“How is it possible no one noticed you?”

“I carried my father's corpse in a large barrel that I placed on a moving cart. It made things much easier. And by the river… no one’s around at that time of night—this is St. Petersburg, after all. It wouldn’t have been wise.”

“God will forgive you, my son.”

“How can you know that? Why do you speak on His behalf?”

“God condemned and exiled Cain when he murdered his brother, but He promised Cain: ‘No! Whoever kills Cain will suffer vengeance seven times over.’ This means that despite Cain’s crime and the punishment he received, God still showed him mercy. And before Moses was sent to bring down the Ten Commandments, he killed one of the Egyptians. Yet, God still chose him. This doesn’t mean we’re given permission to sin endlessly, no. But it’s a reminder that anyone can stray.”

“But why would God forgive such horrible deeds?” Eric asked, feeling his heart soften.

“‘Do I really need forgiveness, or am I searching for it?’” he wondered to himself.

“I don’t know God personally. I only look for signs of His presence in the world, so I can’t give you a definite answer. But I can share with you what I think. God is merciful, but He can also be ruthless and cruel. He can kill, send disasters, and bring suffering to innocent lives. Maybe He forgives because He knows the dark side of nature...? But these are just my thoughts. Many righteous people can’t comprehend this, and I understand them. Parents can’t accept the murder of their child; there’s so much tragedy and injustice in the world... Imagine being a good, just person and then discovering that your God loves the very people you despise... It’s not easy, my son. These are hard things to grasp.”

A heavy silence filled the space. Eric still knelt there, feeling incredibly uneasy. The priest’s words had made him feel ashamed of his actions, yet he still remembered what a monster his father had been—the embodiment of evil, who had tortured him relentlessly.

The images came flooding back to him—his father’s furious face, his behavior when his own son sought love and support from him… The merciless beatings, locking him in the basement, destroying all his relationships and connections…

“I’m sorry, I can’t… I won’t forgive him…” Eric stood up and hurriedly left the temple.

“You need time, my son,” the priest said loudly, now speaking to himself.

He knew what he had to do in that moment.

“Almighty God, it was no coincidence that you guided this young man here, to step inside Your temple. I beg You to grant him forgiveness for the terrible acts he has committed… God - You alone know the mysteries of this world - please have mercy on this poor man who cannot forgive his father’s brutality. Violence begets violence, and hatred breeds hatred. Please, God, take this into account when You call this man to the Final Judgment,” the priest prayed, deeply moved, his heart filled with sorrow, even though the guilt was not his to bear.

,,You shall not bow down to them or worship them; for I the Lord your God am a jealous God, punishing children for the iniquity of parents, to the third and the fourth generation of those who reject me'' ( Exodus 20;5)