incendiarystory (![[info]](http://l-stat.livejournal.com/img/userinfo.gif){kind=small} incendiarystory) wrote,@ 2004-12-06 19:19:00 |
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Why Sleep When I'll Only Dream - CHAPTER FORTY-EIGHT
CHAPTER FORTY-EIGHT
Taking Relationship Advice From A Priest
Standing on the church steps, Emily wondered if she should go inside. It looked like a Catholic Church from the outside, but she couldn't read the German sign to verify that fact. She walked in and it felt comforted by the fact that the interior reminded her of her own church in Chicago. Being inside she felt the sensation of being overpowered by the height of the ceiling and the smell of incense mixed with pew oil.
Emily wasn't even sure how she had found the church. She just kept turning down street after street in a daze until the steeple had appeared in the corner of her eye. She almost gravitated to it.
It was a relief to Emily to be on sacred ground again. It felt like she would be safe here, that she was in a place of sanctuary.
A difference that she quickly realized was the age of the church. She imagined this church must be far older than any she had ever been to. She imagined it standing up to the reformation. It probably wasn't around when Martin Luther had nailed his treatise to the door elsewhere in Germany, but she imagined this church having felt the repercussions of the act.
She looked around for anyone who could give her confession.
All she saw was a man cleaning the pews after the conclusion of morning mass. She walked up to the elderly gentleman and asked, "is there a priest around?"
He stared at her blankly.
"A priest?" she said again slowly. She didn't know the words in Germany so she said it in Latin, one of the few words she remembered, "padre?"
The man pointed at himself and shook his head. Emily tried to figure out how to communicate to the man what she needed. She pointed to the confessional booths on the left side of the church. A glimmer of light came over the small man's face as he held up a finger, put down his towel on the pew nearest to them and walked to the opposite end of the church.
The time passed slowly as Emily stood and looked up at the altar. It was so ornately carved. She got caught up staring at the picture of the Virgin Mary carefully painted above and to the right of the altar. She wondered where she herself had gone wrong and why she couldn't live up to the standards that Mary had set down. She had been a horrible person, drinking and carousing around Paris. Maybe she had deserved what had happened to her. Maybe it was punishment. She walked up to the altar and lit a candle, depositing a two Euro coin in the collection basket that stood next to it.
Emily crossed herself and said a prayer of forgiveness. She looked up to the heavens for some sort of relief in a hope that her prayer had been answered. She didn't know exactly how her life would change if God had found it in his or her heart to answer it. Maybe the best she could hope for was that the serenity she was feeling at this moment could continue once she exited the church doors.
Her trance was broken by a light tap on her shoulder. She turned around to see the sexton. He beckoned her in a soft motion to follow. He put a hand on her back to lead her along to the confession booths.
She sat down as the door between her and the priest slid open.
"Forgive me father for I have sinned, it's been..."
Emily paused. She couldn't even remember how long it had been since her last confession. All she could remember at the moment was what had happened to her after the last time she was in a church. She swallow hard and kept going, trying to estimate the next part of a ritual she remembered well.
"It's been two years since the last time I took confession."
Had it really been two years? As the words spilled out of her mouth, she felt a great sense of guilt for having strayed so far from the flock. No wonder her life was falling apart.
"And what do you vish to confess mein child?" the priest asked in a heavily accented English.
"I vish," Emily said, so nervous that she picked up a little of his accent. "Sorry, father."
"Ich alright," he said.
"I wish to confess that I have violence in my heart. I have also been drinking and living with a man that I am not married to. Was living with a man that I'm not married to. We broke up."
"I am sorry to hear that mein little one," the disembodied voice said.
"Isn't it awful?" Emily cried out, "I broke church law and I've been living in sin!"
"Nein," the priest said, "is sin, ya, but is terrible more that you are so sad about it. You have much love in your heart, that I can tell."
Emily was taken aback. She had expected to have some sort of pennance prescribed and instead she was getting relationship advice from a priest.
"I'm sorry father?"
"It sounds as though you have not opened up your heart enough to feel love. Not only the love of the lord, but the love of your fellow person," he said.
Emily looked away from the gate and looked at the cuts and bruises on her knees, "but there's more father."
"What is that mein child?"
"I feel as though I could act on this violence in my heart to do something horrible, I feel as though my hands have become instruments of destruction, instruments of..."
The priest did not respond.
"I've already done horrible things."
"Describe please the things you have done."
"I slapped my best friend who was only trying to help me," Emily said in a meek voice. She did not even want to mention what she had done to Greg.
The priest paused and said, "that is bad. Violence is never the answer to conflict between two persons. But everyone has moments of weakness, mein child. I do not know you and have never heard confession from you before but if that is the worst of your sins than you have nothing to confess."
"But what if I do more? I feel like I could seriously hurt someone - and I don't even mean to. I feel like I've lost control."
"Violence comes from hate," the priest said slowly, "and what is hate but the lack of love. You must let the love that Jesus feels for all back into your heart. With love you may overcome the..." The priest struggled for the word, "desire...to be violent. Be mindful of the anger and the hate and the light of the lord into your heart again and you will be fine my child."
Emily's cell phone began to ring.
She looked down and say a German number. She thought to herself that it had to be Scott. He finally chose now to call? She felt a rage start to well up inside of her right in the confession booth. The words of the priest began to replay in her head as she breathed in and out once quickly. She let the call go to voice mail.
"I am sorry father," she said, "I forgot to turn it off."
"Do not worry about little things like your phone going off in church," he said, "I can tell you are very tense. It was an American secular philosopher, I believe who said, 'don't sweat the small stuff because it is all small stuff.' Well, is not all small stuff. There are many transgressions. But, you must not worry so much about the small ones. It may lead to having to confess larger ones in the future. Be mindful little one and you will be fine."
The anonymous priest prescribed the penance for having "lay with a man out of wedlock" for two years and said, "be well my child," as he closed the window. Emily did her contrition and softly said, "thank you" softly to the gate, knowing the priest could not hear her.
She opened the curtain and breathed in the musty air of the centuries old church. She found herself wishing that she had taken confession sooner, perhaps in Sacre-Coeur. The residual pain in her legs from the cuts and bruises seemed to sate as she walked out of the church.
Turning her cell phone back on, Emily listened to the voice message from Scott. "Please talk to me Emily," the voice on the other end said, "I read the message that Sandra sent you and now I know that it's not true for sure. Please meet me at the hostel at 2:00 p.m. like we planned."
She thought to herself, "no you planned."
Staring to the sky again, she mouthed the words, "sorry," and crossed herself. She would forgive him for now and hear him out. But, she swore to herself that if he lied to her at all, that she would be out the door quicker than the burden seemed to have been lifted off her shoulders inside the church.
She looked at her watch and say that it was only 11:30 a.m. Looking around, Berlin seemed to have a new vibrance to it. The birds seemed to be singing and the trees seemed to be a lush green in the small planters of the concrete jungle. She stared at the monolithic glass structures in awe in a way that she never could had in Chicago - it was all too familiar there, too everyday.
As much as she loved this feeling of rebirth, of having a clense soul, she realized that she had something to do away from the noise of downtown Berlin. She needed to find somewhere to sit quietly and write down what she would say to Scott - what questions that she really needed answering.
Walking back to the hostel, she looked across the major thoroughfare for the first time and realized that Zoo Station had recieved it moniker because it was actually located by the Zoological Gardens in Berlin. She walked inside the gates and paid the fee. She sat down at a bench by the bear cage and began to hum, "Hallelujah."
She smiled at the different meaning it had taken on in her mind.
Chapter Word Count: 1696
Daily Word Count: 1696
Total Word Count: 78071
Standing on the church steps, Emily wondered if she should go inside. It looked like a Catholic Church from the outside, but she couldn't read the German sign to verify that fact. She walked in and it felt comforted by the fact that the interior reminded her of her own church in Chicago. Being inside she felt the sensation of being overpowered by the height of the ceiling and the smell of incense mixed with pew oil.
Emily wasn't even sure how she had found the church. She just kept turning down street after street in a daze until the steeple had appeared in the corner of her eye. She almost gravitated to it.
It was a relief to Emily to be on sacred ground again. It felt like she would be safe here, that she was in a place of sanctuary.
A difference that she quickly realized was the age of the church. She imagined this church must be far older than any she had ever been to. She imagined it standing up to the reformation. It probably wasn't around when Martin Luther had nailed his treatise to the door elsewhere in Germany, but she imagined this church having felt the repercussions of the act.
She looked around for anyone who could give her confession.
All she saw was a man cleaning the pews after the conclusion of morning mass. She walked up to the elderly gentleman and asked, "is there a priest around?"
He stared at her blankly.
"A priest?" she said again slowly. She didn't know the words in Germany so she said it in Latin, one of the few words she remembered, "padre?"
The man pointed at himself and shook his head. Emily tried to figure out how to communicate to the man what she needed. She pointed to the confessional booths on the left side of the church. A glimmer of light came over the small man's face as he held up a finger, put down his towel on the pew nearest to them and walked to the opposite end of the church.
The time passed slowly as Emily stood and looked up at the altar. It was so ornately carved. She got caught up staring at the picture of the Virgin Mary carefully painted above and to the right of the altar. She wondered where she herself had gone wrong and why she couldn't live up to the standards that Mary had set down. She had been a horrible person, drinking and carousing around Paris. Maybe she had deserved what had happened to her. Maybe it was punishment. She walked up to the altar and lit a candle, depositing a two Euro coin in the collection basket that stood next to it.
Emily crossed herself and said a prayer of forgiveness. She looked up to the heavens for some sort of relief in a hope that her prayer had been answered. She didn't know exactly how her life would change if God had found it in his or her heart to answer it. Maybe the best she could hope for was that the serenity she was feeling at this moment could continue once she exited the church doors.
Her trance was broken by a light tap on her shoulder. She turned around to see the sexton. He beckoned her in a soft motion to follow. He put a hand on her back to lead her along to the confession booths.
She sat down as the door between her and the priest slid open.
"Forgive me father for I have sinned, it's been..."
Emily paused. She couldn't even remember how long it had been since her last confession. All she could remember at the moment was what had happened to her after the last time she was in a church. She swallow hard and kept going, trying to estimate the next part of a ritual she remembered well.
"It's been two years since the last time I took confession."
Had it really been two years? As the words spilled out of her mouth, she felt a great sense of guilt for having strayed so far from the flock. No wonder her life was falling apart.
"And what do you vish to confess mein child?" the priest asked in a heavily accented English.
"I vish," Emily said, so nervous that she picked up a little of his accent. "Sorry, father."
"Ich alright," he said.
"I wish to confess that I have violence in my heart. I have also been drinking and living with a man that I am not married to. Was living with a man that I'm not married to. We broke up."
"I am sorry to hear that mein little one," the disembodied voice said.
"Isn't it awful?" Emily cried out, "I broke church law and I've been living in sin!"
"Nein," the priest said, "is sin, ya, but is terrible more that you are so sad about it. You have much love in your heart, that I can tell."
Emily was taken aback. She had expected to have some sort of pennance prescribed and instead she was getting relationship advice from a priest.
"I'm sorry father?"
"It sounds as though you have not opened up your heart enough to feel love. Not only the love of the lord, but the love of your fellow person," he said.
Emily looked away from the gate and looked at the cuts and bruises on her knees, "but there's more father."
"What is that mein child?"
"I feel as though I could act on this violence in my heart to do something horrible, I feel as though my hands have become instruments of destruction, instruments of..."
The priest did not respond.
"I've already done horrible things."
"Describe please the things you have done."
"I slapped my best friend who was only trying to help me," Emily said in a meek voice. She did not even want to mention what she had done to Greg.
The priest paused and said, "that is bad. Violence is never the answer to conflict between two persons. But everyone has moments of weakness, mein child. I do not know you and have never heard confession from you before but if that is the worst of your sins than you have nothing to confess."
"But what if I do more? I feel like I could seriously hurt someone - and I don't even mean to. I feel like I've lost control."
"Violence comes from hate," the priest said slowly, "and what is hate but the lack of love. You must let the love that Jesus feels for all back into your heart. With love you may overcome the..." The priest struggled for the word, "desire...to be violent. Be mindful of the anger and the hate and the light of the lord into your heart again and you will be fine my child."
Emily's cell phone began to ring.
She looked down and say a German number. She thought to herself that it had to be Scott. He finally chose now to call? She felt a rage start to well up inside of her right in the confession booth. The words of the priest began to replay in her head as she breathed in and out once quickly. She let the call go to voice mail.
"I am sorry father," she said, "I forgot to turn it off."
"Do not worry about little things like your phone going off in church," he said, "I can tell you are very tense. It was an American secular philosopher, I believe who said, 'don't sweat the small stuff because it is all small stuff.' Well, is not all small stuff. There are many transgressions. But, you must not worry so much about the small ones. It may lead to having to confess larger ones in the future. Be mindful little one and you will be fine."
The anonymous priest prescribed the penance for having "lay with a man out of wedlock" for two years and said, "be well my child," as he closed the window. Emily did her contrition and softly said, "thank you" softly to the gate, knowing the priest could not hear her.
She opened the curtain and breathed in the musty air of the centuries old church. She found herself wishing that she had taken confession sooner, perhaps in Sacre-Coeur. The residual pain in her legs from the cuts and bruises seemed to sate as she walked out of the church.
Turning her cell phone back on, Emily listened to the voice message from Scott. "Please talk to me Emily," the voice on the other end said, "I read the message that Sandra sent you and now I know that it's not true for sure. Please meet me at the hostel at 2:00 p.m. like we planned."
She thought to herself, "no you planned."
Staring to the sky again, she mouthed the words, "sorry," and crossed herself. She would forgive him for now and hear him out. But, she swore to herself that if he lied to her at all, that she would be out the door quicker than the burden seemed to have been lifted off her shoulders inside the church.
She looked at her watch and say that it was only 11:30 a.m. Looking around, Berlin seemed to have a new vibrance to it. The birds seemed to be singing and the trees seemed to be a lush green in the small planters of the concrete jungle. She stared at the monolithic glass structures in awe in a way that she never could had in Chicago - it was all too familiar there, too everyday.
As much as she loved this feeling of rebirth, of having a clense soul, she realized that she had something to do away from the noise of downtown Berlin. She needed to find somewhere to sit quietly and write down what she would say to Scott - what questions that she really needed answering.
Walking back to the hostel, she looked across the major thoroughfare for the first time and realized that Zoo Station had recieved it moniker because it was actually located by the Zoological Gardens in Berlin. She walked inside the gates and paid the fee. She sat down at a bench by the bear cage and began to hum, "Hallelujah."
She smiled at the different meaning it had taken on in her mind.
Chapter Word Count: 1696
Daily Word Count: 1696
Total Word Count: 78071
