First Confession

Fuming, Sister Agatha slammed the desk with her hand. Everyone in the classroom sat up, bleary eyed, and stared. The subject, written on the blackboard, was ‘My First Confession.’ Sr. Agatha was well practiced at preparing first graders for this milestone. It was a big deal.

She said, “Once again, thank you for your attention. Your first confession is tomorrow. If you’re not ready, I won’t be the one who suffers.” Her threat was not lost on anyone.

One of the boys at the back of the classroom mumbled something and a wave of giggles spread through the class.

Sr. Agatha stared as only she could, until the disruption ceased.

“I won’t tell you again. Anyone even mentioning the silly word ‘Sputnik,’ will be denied confession tomorrow. Almighty God watches over us all. That ridiculous contraption means nothing in the larger scope of our lives. Please focus on what is most important…”

Dante stared at his desk. He wouldn’t make eye contact with the nun. He didn’t want to repeat being called a ‘spiritual nincompoop.’ He admitted to having poor understanding of some things. But being seven, he thought his ignorance deserved a pass. He could barely read.

‘What’s your excuse, Aggie?’

Didn’t she know Sputnik was the most important event since World War Two? It was all Dante and his friends could talk about. Everything had changed. Now space travel and one day landing on the moon wasn’t the stuff of fantasy and science fiction movies. It was huge. America had to compete with the Russians.

But tomorrow, his first confession loomed.

Seven-year-old Dante felt anything but ready. How could he prepare for a mysterious event beyond his understanding? He’d never confessed his sins to anyone, let alone a priest. And the priest had the inside track to God! Dante didn’t understand what a sin was. How was he supposed to confess to something about which he was clueless?

He’d only recently learned to tie his shoes. How could he disappoint, and then beg forgiveness from someone he’d never met? He only knew how to be himself.

He remembered his dad saying, ‘always read the fine print.’ So, where’s the fine print when dealing with a Supreme Being?

Dante wondered what sins he must be guilty of. The paper Sr. Agatha gave the kids to study hadn’t helped much. It listed the seven deadly sins and the ten commandments. He knew God gave a guy named Moses the ten commandments. And Pope Greg One came up with the rest, thirteen hundred years ago. A long time ago in anyone’s calendar. Practically pre-historic. How important could this list be after all that time?

(Aren’t we supposed to evolve? What is ‘evolving’ again? Like dinosaurs turning into people?)

But there they were on a list.

Dante tried to think of a sin he’d committed. Even a venial sin would do. White lies, dirty thoughts…? Nope… ‘That stuff is stupid…’ He came up blank. Nothing came to mind.

He was a good kid. What did they want?

At lunch, a girl in his class declared, “I’m gonna say I disobeyed my parents.” She couldn’t think of any sins either.

Dante said, “If you didn’t disobey, that would be lying.”

“But he’ll believe me. A few prayers for penance and, whew! Done.” She snapped her fingers.

“I don’t know. Lying to a priest…? Isn’t that worse…?”

She shrugged. “It’s the only way.”

That evening, Dante sat on his bed staring at the list. So many words he didn’t understand.

‘What the heck is a covet?’

His big sister, Charity, stood in his doorway. She knocked and he looked up.

“Can I come in?”

He nodded and she sat next to him on the bed.

“Big day tomorrow? I remember my first confession. Some kid got scared and wet his pants in the confessional.”

“Ewww!”

“Of course, no one would admit to the crime. So, everyone got punished for desecrating the church.”

“That’s not fair…”

“Those priests… they send everyone to hell. And there’s nothing you can do.”

Dante felt depressed. ‘What if I mess it up?’ he thought. ‘The Cub scouts won’t let me join.’

“And it never stops…” Charity told about her friend. “Last week, Felicity kissed a boy after her confession. Then, in assembly they announced that French kissing was a sin. Felicity felt trapped. She’d been to confession that day. Going back, she’d look like a fool. But to take communion with a sin on her conscience would be worse…”

“What’d she do?”

“Felicity scandalized the nuns when she refused to take communion. They scolded and shamed her in front of everyone. They said Joan of Arc got burned at the stake as a heretic when she wouldn’t accept communion.”

“Yeah, but…”

“And you better pray no one farts in there before your turn.”

Dante made a face. He felt his bowels churn.

“Consider yourself lucky. Girls have to wear skirts when they go to confession. Or else…” Charity stopped in the doorway. Her last words to Dante were, “Oh, avoid Fr. Aloysius. No matter what. He’s the worst.” She gave him a mock salute and left.

‘Great… As if I have a choice…’

Dante’s favorite Bible story was David taking Goliath out with a sling. ‘I want to be like David. He never sinned.’ Dante admired David’s bravery so much, he set up a target in a vacant lot for sling shot practice. Friends got him to teach them how to sling stones too.

Sitting on his bed, he thought, ‘My sling won’t help me tomorrow…’

~

The next morning, Sr. Agatha and four other nuns brought the kids into the church for their first confession. They lined them up, single file outside the confessional doors. Strict order was kept.

Dressed in black gowns, with only their faces showing, the nuns stood in the gloom like spectral sentries. Never breaking their silence, they communicated with invisible signals. They’d never looked so severe.

There were two confessionals. Fr. Aloysius occupied the one on the right. Fr. Clarence was behind the second door.

Dante prayed for Fr. Clarence. ‘Please… Anyone but Fr. Al…’

Dante stood in line with his fellow students. He wasn’t ready. He wanted to sleep.

Many of the girls and some boys exited the confessionals with tear-streaked faces.

The kid behind Dante nudged him into the girl before him.

Dante pushed back. “Stop it.”

Sr. Agatha appeared beside them.

“Stop fighting or I’ll send you home. You will be denied your first communion until next year.”

The kid asked, “Wouldn’t that be a break?”

“Stop fighting. And be sure to confess your bad attitude.”

Dante said, “He started it.”

“No backtalk. I don’t care. Move to the end of the line, Dante. Now.”

No one spent much time confessing. The line got shorter. Soon, Dante was next.

A weeping girl emerged from Fr. Aloysius’ confessional. Dante hesitated.

Sr. Agatha gestured toward the slowly closing door. Dante shook his head and pointed at Fr. Clarence’s door.

“Don’t waste time. Go…”

Resigned, Dante went to meet his fate.

He pulled the door open and entered the confessional. Lined in dark wood, Dante found himself in a dimly lit, small, ominous closet. Testing, he stamped his foot. A rumor had claimed a trap door could open, sending him straight to hell.

‘Is it supposed to be scary? I can’t breathe. What if I can’t get out?’

There was a kneeler against one wall beneath a small window with a screen that hid the priest from view. He knew the screen protected his privacy. He felt alone.

A crucifix hung on the wall over the little window. Dante made a sign of the cross and knelt. He heard the screen slide back. He saw the priest move in silhouette.

Dante made a sign of the cross and waited in suspense.

After a pause, Fr. Aloysius said, “Yes…?”

Dante said, “This is my first confession…”

“Tell me your sins, boy…”

“I… I’m sorry… I don’t have any.”

“No sins? My, what a perfect little boy you are. No lies? Think… Not even one?”

Dante felt ashamed that he hadn’t sinned.

“Do you want me to lie?”

“I want the truth, boy.”

“I told the truth. Should I make something up?”

“Listen. This is confession. You are to bare your soul in contrition for how you’ve broken God’s laws.”

“But I told you. I haven’t. I’ve been good.”

The priest cleared his throat. “Do you know who I am?”

Dante wondered if this was a trick question. “Fr. Aloysius…?”

“I am a stand-in for God. You can tell me anything in here. With God there are no secrets. You cannot fool me.”

“I don’t want to fool you. Why are you saying I did something that I didn’t?”

The silence was deafening.

Fr. Aloysius said, “Have it your way. I’ll put you down for six lies, four instances of disobeying your parents…”

“But I didn’t…”

“This isn’t my first confession, boy. Of course you did. Everyone does.”

“But they don’t. They tell you stuff ‘cause they know you won’t believe them.”

Dante felt the room closing in.

The priest said, “Hmmm… There is one thing. You seem particularly proud of being sinless. Pride is a sin.”

“Then I can’t win.”

“What do you mean?”

“If I sin, I’m bad. If I don’t sin, you think I’m prideful. Which means I’m sinning. Right?”

“Remorse would help.”

Dante pulled out his list and scanned it in the dim light.

He said, “I don’t get it. I’m only a kid.”

“You are old enough to be accountable and correct your actions.”

“But you blame me for something I didn’t do…”

“God wants you to be aware… To change your behavior.”

“Wait. I didn’t sin. You want me to start?”

“This isn’t a to do list, kid. I want honesty. You didn’t pay attention to the nuns teaching you. Too distracted by…”

“Sputnik...”

“Of course…”

“So, help me, father… Some of these sins, I don’t understand... Like adultery. I’m not an adult. If it’s a sin to be an adult, why would I want to become one?”

“Don’t be impertinent.”

“Isn’t sin a conscious choice?”

“It is…”

Dante slapped the side of the kneeler. The sound startled him.

“How can I sin if I’m not choosing to?”

“Your anger is inappropriate.”

“I want to understand. You say one thing and then change it.”

“Each sin leads to others. Once you start…”

“But I didn’t start. And you don’t believe me. Is it a sin not to believe the truth?”

“Stop arguing. Listen. Sin is like a loose thread. You think nothing of it until you pull it, then the whole sweater unravels.”

“I don’t get it. It’s like a quiz where I can only pass by getting the questions wrong…”

“Are you presuming to teach me…?”

“Jesus must hate me if he thinks I’m lying. How will my penance be enough?”

“He knows your heart. I cannot exact full payment for your sins. He forgives what no one can repay.”

Dante remained silent.

The priest said, “Okay... I think we’re done... For your penance, you must forgive someone who hasn’t asked for, nor earned your forgiveness.”

Dante thought of Fr. Aloysius. ‘How do I forgive a priest? Can I do that? Has anyone ever done that? Would it be prideful?’

“Do you understand me?”

Dante said, “Yes… I need to forgive…”

Fr. Aloysius got him started and Dante recited the closing prayer. The priest blessed him and slid the screen shut.

‘Done. I survived… free…’

Dante pushed the door open and sighed at feeling liberated.

After being ensconced inside the confessional for what seemed an eternity, the church felt airy and bright. The beautiful stained-glass windows shone. Depicting various saints, they flooded the sanctuary with light. Almost empty, a few people knelt before statues. The faint smell of incense made his nose itch.

Ever vigilant, Sr. Agatha stood by. Dante caught her eye. She nodded to him.

‘Did she smile?’

He found an empty pew, knelt and put his hands together to pray.

‘Father, forgive Fr. Aloysius. He does not know what he’s doing.’