Serious Then Not

I went confession yesterday. I try to go on a regular basis; it is good for the soul. It forces you to reflect on life, what you shouldn't have done, what you should have done, what you could have done better and so forth. 

But enough of that seriousness. I noticed when I arrived that the entire waiting room was nothing but men. All men, waiting for confession.

So, ladies, I give this to you. What's the punchline?

Bad Law

The State of Washington has passed and the purported Catholic governor signed a law which would force priests to break the seal of Confession. Briefly put, Catholic priests cannot under any circumstances make public any person's confession. It is a basic right of the free practice of religion and religious conscience. The Federal Department of Justice is investigating it as a violation of the First Amendment.

Good. If ever there was an example of tyranny, this is it. You fear Trump? I fear the left in general, and government power in particular. The left wants what it wants, and reason let alone the Constitution be damned. 

Yet before we wag our fingers too harshly at our left wing friends we should remember that, in this case anyway, it isn't only they who wish to swing the cudgel of government power against religious rights. Delaware and Vermont (unsurprisingly to me) have had recent bills die in committee which would do the same thing, while the very Republican states of Montana and North Dakota have considered similar measures. Thankfully none of them passed. But it does show that liberals aren't necessarily alone. In North Dakota anyway, two of the sponsors of the proposed bill were in the GOP.

Any way you slice it, the Washington law is bad law no matter how good the intention; we seem too ready and able to forget about the road to perdition. We have a Constitution precisely that the citizenry may be protected from such disregard for individual rights. We must teach our friends to respect it.

Good For the Soul

Confession is good for the soul. I mean that as a general rule; we ought to examine our lives from time to time to consider what we might have done better at this point or that. We shouldn't beat ourselves up about it either as that's it's own downward spiral which can hurt more than it helps. But if we can't look at ourselves and concede, all right, I ought to have handled that better or acted differently, we probably aren't being honest enough.

As a Catholic, I'm obligated to attend our sacramental Confession. That can bring up some interesting moments even as I prepare for it, moments which touch on what I've just said.

The last time I went, for whatever reason, things were going slow. It was taking forever (well, a comparative forever, not, of course, literal forever) and I found myself getting impatient and upset. What have all these folks done that it's taking so long? What can the priest possibly be telling them that keeps the line from moving? It finally hit me that my convenience wasn't the point. The people were telling what they had to tell and Father was saying what he needed to say. And I had just, I suppose, found something else I needed to confess.

A Joke by Yours Truly

I went to confession yesterday. Don't worry, this isn't going to be religious. I'm only setting up a joke. You're certainly not hearing my confession any way you slice it.

Okay, maybe it's a set up of two jokes. So now, the second.

Due to COVID protocols, chairs were set up six feet apart in the hallway leading to the confessional. When the confessional door opened, the person in the chair closest to the door left his chair to go in. The rest of then us moved up a seat. 

At one point I remarked out loud, "This is the slowest game of musical chairs I've ever played."

Ba-dum-bum, one in a row. I'm here til Tuesday, folks.

Good for the soul?

I went to confession yesterday. I don't point that out for any other reason than to set up a joke.

While talking to me brother Phil (whom I employ) I casually remarked, "Yeah, I needed to go to because I've been shorting you on your pay."

"Why would you tell me that?" he asked.

Continuing into what I thought a good joke I responded, "I don't care that you know. But it bothered me that God did."

AND NOW, the punch line.

"Oh. I suppose I have to go confess my wanton embezzlement." Phil replied.