Father Bernie Needs a Smoke

by Robert J. Marton

He wished he could smoke in the confessional.  Puffing along, blowing a few rings…  He could be like an Indian in a teepee, with smoke rising from the top of his little box, signaling to the waiting sinners that Father Bernie was ready to give absolution.

The sinners always found him anyway.  Especially the teenagers.  He gave easy penance:  three Our Father’s and three Hail Mary’s, no matter what the sins were.  He didn’t scold (usually); just dished out absolution and sent them on their way to sin again.  Unlike some of his colleagues, he saw no point in admonishment or a harsh penance, especially for young people.  They signaled their intent to do better and be better just by showing up – making it hard on them might just push them away.  And what would that accomplish?

In these early years of the 1970’s, less than 10 years since the Vatican II changes in the Church, Father Bernie still preferred the old fashioned confessional booth to the semi-public face-to-face penance; and many penitents –especially the young—opted for the privacy of the closed booth.

Many of their sins were committed in the dark; why not confess them in the dark?

Sometimes he encountered real darkness of the human soul.  He didn’t recall anyone ever confessing to a murder, but he had heard more than his share of brutality, abuse (sexual and other wise), and pure base lust.  Usually the lust didn’t bother him (most people suffered far too much guilt over normal human desires), but occasionally someone tried to get easy forgiveness for truly base and degrading behavior.

He still gave absolution and his standard penance.

He was just the agent – God can sort it all out in the end.

A stirring on the other side of the confessional: He slid open the screen and spoke through the lattice:  “In the name of the Father, the Son, and Holy Spirit.”

The young male voice whispered:  “Bless me Father for I have sinned.  It has been two weeks since my last confession.”

Father Bernie knew this would be one of the easy ones, the minor venial sins that plague an adolescent’s mind.  Besides, he recognized the voice – one of the Fagan twins, either Tegan or Regan (first names rhyme with last name); they were identical in so many ways that it was near impossible to tell them apart, especially by voice.  They were also identical in their insolence and bad manners, but they managed to make confession fairly often, being marched to church by their devout and long suffering Irish mother, Megan (who was the inspiration for their euphonic first names).

Tegan’s (or Regan’s) litany of sins:

I disobeyed my mother five times.

 I had impure thoughts twice.

I told three lies.

I copied someone else’s homework one time.

He pauses.

Father Bernie interjects:  “Are there any other sins you wish to confess?”

“No, Father.”

“What about the incense at last Sunday’s Mass?”

Silence from the other side of the screen.

Father Bernie asks, “Well?”

“Incense, Father?  What do you mean?”

“The incense, Mr. Fagan … when you tried to choke the congregation, and gave me a huge sinus headache.  Don’t you think that’s a sin?”

Silence –embarrassed silence—again.

After a few years of “smoke free” services, St. Francis of Assisi recently brought back the use of incense during Mass.  While many in the congregation could do without the cough-inducing smell and smoke, the altar boys loved it.  The younger altar boys could barely get the fire going, but for the older boys –like Tegan and Regan– firing up the coals to inferno proportions was an art.  They cranked it up to bonfire level so that the coals not only burned long and hot, but created a cloud of smoke that covered the entire church.

It truly got out of hand last Sunday at 9 o’clock Mass.  The Fagan twins –degenerate sons of Bernie’s old school mate “Crazy Patrick” Fagan– were in charge of the censer (the incense vehicle, for you heathens) and Father Bernie could tell from the very beginning what was going to happen from the little smiles they gave each other.  It was smoking like mad and they could barely contain themselves.  Tegan (or was it Regan?) handed the censer to Father Bernie, who gave it gave it a lot of chain and a big double swing (as opposed to a single swing, which is just one outward motion – a double swing is an outward swing, letting it swing inside, then another outward swing).  The smoke and smell just poured out.

The church filled with smoke.  The priest started sneezing and couldn’t stop.  The congregants coughed and choked.  You could barely see the altar through the smoke. The altar boys were smiling at each other and Father Bernie was none too happy.

After Mass, he didn’t say anything to the boys – just glared at them.  They knew he would get them eventually.

In the confessional, Father Bernie continued:  “Someone’s been hitting the altar wine, too.  Any idea who that could be?”

Again, silence.

“Your penance is three Our Father’s and three Hail Mary’s, and try to control your behavior.  Remember to pray to Jesus in times of temptation.”

“Yes, Father.”

“And let someone else handle the incense from now on.”

No comment.

“If you’re the one drinking the altar wine … well, that’s punishment enough.  That stuff tastes like crap.  Now, say the Act of Contrition.”

A weak voiced, contrite Tegan (or Regan) responded with his mangled version of  Contrition:

“O my God, I am ‘hardly’ sorry for having offended Thee, and I ‘desist’ all my sins, because I dread the loss of heaven, and the ‘painful’ hell; but most of all because they offend Thee, my God, Who are all good and ‘serving’ of all my love. I firmly resolve, with the help of Thy grace, to confess my sins, to do penance, and to ‘defend’ my life.  Amen.”

Blessing the penitent with the sign of the cross, Father Bernie finished the rite: “I absolve you of your sins in the name of the Father, the Son, and the Holy Spirit.  Go in peace.”

“Thanks be to God.”

Another soul wiped clean.

Bernie still craved a cigarette. He could blow smoke into the eyes and sinuses of sinners who annoyed him (like the teenagers who came to confession on Saturday afternoon to get absolved of last Saturday night’s  sexual behavior, so that they could go out tonight and do it again).

Clean the slate and start over.

Say you’re sorry and a few prayers.

God loves and forgives you, even through the fog of incense and insincerity.