Doctrine;
Once a month had to go to confession. Though I did not like the doctrine I was dominated by its rules. I never liked to go to confession. I did not like to be intimate with eccentricity. I never new what I should say; I did not feel comfortable with this arrangement. I knew the right order of the ten commandments. I felt uneasy.The priest usually hurried me through the commandments.
In a portentous way the priest behind the wooden grill was a stranger who whispered questions which I was not able to answer. From time to time I tried the little door if it still opened so I could escape. The priest said leave the door alone and concentrate on your sins.
It felt like he was not taking the whole procedure very serious it was more like going through set motions. I did not like the cubicle. It smelled musty, of old paint and dust. I was kneeling on a hard plank which hurt my knees. The priest asked me all this questions which I always answered with no, which I felt was safer.
The priest never denied me absolution but he also gave me an awful lot of Hail Mary’s to recite.
I liked the church, its antiquity, the sacred music, the rituals. I never prayed during mass. I liked to watch the activities of the performing priest and the altar boys. The rituals never changed and I got bored with it all and was having a hard time to concentrate as my thoughts went to other more important things in the life of an eight year old.
The day after confession, which in my case was usually a Sunday, I had to go to holy communion. I was not allowed to have breakfast before communion. My tummy was rumbling, making unholy noises when I was kneeling before the priest to receive it. It went on and on and on through all the rituals. When it all was finished I felt free, a weight was lifted from my shoulders for the next four weeks which was a long time away.
After church I was invited for breakfast at the house of the priest. I was the only child there, because I came by train from the next village, and I could not go straight home for breakfast. That was only when I went to communion and left my home without having eaten any food. I was served in the parlor not in the kitchen. On the table was a white tablecloth. Everything looked very old fashioned with lots of holy pictures on the walls but there was no dust. The housekeeper of the priest, catholic priests are not married, was friendly but did not speak to me. The breakfast was
delicious, hot strong cocoa, bread butter and jam. I did not pray before the meal, because we did not pray at home and nobody was asking me to pray.
I liked the church, its antiquity, the sacred music, the rituals. I never prayed during mass. I liked to watch the activities of the performing priest and the altar boys. The rituals never changed and I got bored with it all and was having a hard time to concentrate as my thoughts went to other more important things in the life of an eight year old.
The day after confession, which in my case was usually a Sunday, I had to go to holy communion. I was not allowed to have breakfast before communion. My tummy was rumbling, making unholy noises when I was kneeling before the priest to receive it. It went on and on and on through all the rituals. When it all was finished I felt free, a weight was lifted from my shoulders for the next four weeks which was a long time away.
After church I was invited for breakfast at the house of the priest. I was the only child there, because I came by train from the next village, and I could not go straight home for breakfast. That was only when I went to communion and left my home without having eaten any food. I was served in the parlor not in the kitchen. On the table was a white tablecloth. Everything looked very old fashioned with lots of holy pictures on the walls but there was no dust. The housekeeper of the priest, catholic priests are not married, was friendly but did not speak to me. The breakfast was
delicious, hot strong cocoa, bread butter and jam. I did not pray before the meal, because we did not pray at home and nobody was asking me to pray.
1 comment:
Wow ... lot's to read and a wonderdul sensation learning more about you!
Never done anything of that. I guess I can see myself as some kind of special believer ... my wife says I believe in God, but not in men whom speak in his name.
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