The Padre

I am drawn to churches.

Never walk into one but I am drawn to them. There is always a risk if I visit one I will be immediately struck down dead. I'll keep that in my back pocket as a get out of jail free card if my life ever truly goes south.

Peace of mind is what I crave. It is what we all crave. Buried under the detritus of my mind is the faint belief that if I walk into a church and sit alone for a while in perfect silence in a building built for reflection, peace of mind will come to me. 

There are three views from the parking garage I use for work. One faces the insane asylum/daycare building. One looks out over a Concord city neighborhood street. One faces a church.

I used to rotate them to avoid boredom. Lately I have been choosing the church view. It is a typical stone church, an imposing edifice with a stone rectory in back. 

I almost always arrive at the garage 15 minutes before I have to trudge to the office. This is because the idea of parking and leaping out of my car to immediately have the shackles attached to my ankles nauseates me.

I need time. Time to prepare mentally for the blandness of the day.

I see the Padre sometimes, puttering around the property, and he looks exactly as you imagine he would. Around my age, beard streaked with white, somewhat frail, not intimidating. Exuding a thoughtful air.

I was sitting there on Christmas Eve morning wondering if that is a crazy time for him. Wondering if he is running around in a panic preparing for Christmas Eve mass and Christmas Day mass.

This is the highlight of the year, baby. This is for all the marbles. Gotta impress The Big Guy to have a shot at sainthood.

Somehow my mind drew a parallel to my accounting career. Every month-end was a pain in the ass. Working through lunch and on at least one Saturday, of course for no additional pay - the joy of a salaried employee.

But year-end was the Big Kahuna. Throw out any semblance of dignity. Working through lunch every day and on as many Saturdays as it took. A frenzied pace to a rushed outcome that gets revised and revised and revised again.

Please note - contrary to popular belief accounting is not a black and white science. It is all about manipulating the numbers to get as close to the desired result as possible.

I was sitting in my car at 7:00 am on December 24 wondering what the Padre was going through. 

Was he running around the church putting the final touches on whatever he had to put the final touches on?

Was he sitting in the rectory attempting to work up the two best sermons of his life? Was he nervous? Was he stressed? Was he checking off shit on a list?

I did not see him that morning. It is a 50/50 chance I'll see him walking around. He must have been busy.

Maybe he was deep in prayer, praying that he wouldn't let god down. I don't know, praying to god that you won't let god down sounds like cheating to me.

I don't understand devoting your entire existence to the priesthood. But if you are a true believer and you aren't diddling little boys, I respect you. For the pure of heart it must be an incredibly fulfilling existence. Especially if you succeed at transmitting your love and belief and commitment to other people; if you can inspire hope in their souls. People need hope.

If you are doing it out of a soul-deep and honest belief, then I commend you.

I sincerely hope the Padre had an awesome Christmas Eve and Christmas Day. I hope he filled his soul up with love and spiritual devotion; I hope he connected with his people and added something to their Christmas that made it glow.

Maybe I will pop into his church someday. Maybe we will come face to face. If he tries to preach to me I will gently send him away so I can heal in the peace of his church.

If he is a sincere Padre, he will understand.