The First Confession
Walking into my church from the side entrance was new to me. As was seeing it in the shadows of the approaching night time haze. The chill in the air from the outside remained and lingered even as the last child was ushered in by the teachers, and the weighted metal door slammed shut behind her like that of a prison cell. I shivered, not quite sure if it was from the air or the darkness that held the church. The alter, that in the daytime looked powerful and commanding, now felt sinister. My eyes dared to dart to the crucifix that hung above the alter. In the flickering candle light I swore I could see cold empty eyes open, staring down at all of us little children, judging us from above. Why would they bring children here at night? I knew I would have to endure this terror for a while as my best friend and I went toward the back of the line, awaiting the task at hand.
As I stood in line I noticed the curtain, the heavy, blood red, velvet curtain draped over the confessional doorway. What exactly was behind that curtain anyway? The first child was to enter. He lifted the leaden entrance with his two little hands and it fell hard behind him as he was sucked in. We all watched, every kid in line watched, as the next and next entered and exited. Whispers ensued each time a little body emerged from the other side of the heavy curtain. We all searched for signs to see if that child looked any different from before he went in and the priest performed his magic. Were there halos above his head? Did he sprout wings? Or horns?
A rehearsal of confessions raced through my little mind. I must be prepared. What crimes could they possibly think a seven year old committed anyway, that they needed to be confessed to the Great and Powerful Oz behind the curtain? "I fight with my sister, I talked back to my parents, I told a lie..." Were these the kinds of sins that needed to be washed away from the world? Catch them while their young mentality?
The line lessened and I knew my turn was coming soon. I counted my lucky stars that at least I didn't end up like some of the other poor saps who had to do the face to face confessions. My friend and I heard one of those kids actually peed his pants. I'll take my chances with Oz. Besides, when this is all over, I will make my Communion, and wear a pretty dress, and finally taste the wafer. I think this as my best friend prepared to go. Wide eyes full of terror, she turned and gave me one last look. I mouthed, "Good luck," and she disappeared behind the curtain. I wondered whom she would be when she came out. I watched the flickering candle dancing on the wall, creating shadows for what seemed an eternity. She finally emerged and escaped from the dark place behind the curtain. I willed her to make eye contact with me, to give me a sign, tell me something, but she didn't. She headed straight to the pew, head down, and prayed.
The nun who was there assisting our teachers, gave me a little push when she realized I was not moving, my feet had become frozen to the ground. Her stern look forced me to go. I lifted the lead curtain. It was dark. Pitch as night. My heart beat raced. Dark wood encompassed me. It was hard to breathe, the air was heavy and pushed on me from all sides. There was one small flickering candle on the wall; I don't think it was real. I thought about the empty, judging eyes on the other side of the curtain, that came from above the alter. Somehow I found the courage to kneel down on the kneeler, knowing that when I did the wall divider would open and I would have to speak to the person on the other side. And it did. The face looked distorted from the screen divider, but I could recognize the priest from church. He shakes my hand each Sunday as we leave mass. "Yes my child." And I do it. I say my rehearsed speech that my CCD teacher prepared and I ramble off my list of "sins." I kneeled there waiting for a scolding, a lecture, but all he said was, "Say two Hail Marys and one Our Father. Go in peace."
The divider gently closed, I smirked, and rose, bowed my head, turned my smirk into a look of serenity and walked out from behind the massive curtain. Searching eyes were on my back, the kids waiting to go in. Suckers. I knelt down, said my prayers and sat with my friend. We nudged each other and giggled. Will it always be this easy?
