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How Our Local Church's Priest Made Me An Atheist
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How Our Local Church's Priest Made Me An Atheist

Bless Me, Father, I Have Sinned: My Striptease of the Soul

Dec 17, 2021
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How Our Local Church's Priest Made Me An Atheist
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November 1961. It’s a Saturday afternoon, and I am eleven. At the appointed time, I enter the half-lit confessional, kneel on the prie-dieu, and fold my hands on the sloping shelf beneath the sliding screen.

 Above my head, a crucifix: his body nailed to the cross, a loincloth draped across him. I cast my eyes down. I must not notice his body and think only about his agony for the sins of mankind, which include my sins. The screen pulls back.

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The Latin incantation asks Jesus’ mercy upon my soul. I make the sign of the cross and whisper the words I have memorized: “Bless me, Father, for I have sinned. It has been four weeks since my last confession. These are my sins.”

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