 |
| "St. Francis Borgia Performing An Exorcism," Francisco De Goya: 1788. |
“I have come to do My Father’s will. I obeyed My parents, I obeyed My tormentors and now I obey the priests.” ~ The words of Our Lord to St. Faustina
Although I had not stepped into a church for well over a decade, when I got spewed out of the gay lifestyle, I instinctually returned to the Church of my youth: the Catholic Church. I didn’t know why, for my education in the Faith had come about during the spectacularly failed experimental age of the human potential movement in parochial education: I knew next to nothing. In fact, as a teen, I busted onto the world as an ignorant relativistic hedonist: only interested in following my own personal and sorely uninformed conscious in pursuit of what pleased me. This was a formless existence, and I tried to take on any kind of new-age or occultist philosophies in a hapless attempt to give it shape, yet, when all was done – I was still left ignorant and selfish.
Now, I thank God that my stalwart parents made sure I at least received the Sacraments: Baptism, Confession, First Holy Communion, and Conformation. But back then, I had been either too young and uninformed, or too old and preoccupied to appreciate what was happening to me. When I was stripped and left with nothing, I returned to being a little boy; before the world had touched me and before the wounds become so deep and painful – and all I wanted was to innocently know God. But, also like a little kid, I feared Him. So, not knowing what else to do or where else to turn, I timidly ran back to Confession; and like a dutiful boy, I reeled off my lengthy laundry list of sins. Only, still, I just pretty much feared Him.
Then, slowly, a more intimate relationship with Our Lord began to emerge through my daily attendance at Mass. The Sacrifice of the Mass; that most Holy and powerful of Sacraments – the time at which Our Lord suffers and dies for us all in actual human form there on the altar, brought the reality of Him to me. Much of the time, through my wanderings, this often took place at a Traditional Latin Mass, or where the Novus Ordo was celebrated with extreme reverence and sanctity. And, here, the same man who heard my Confessions, through the anointing of his hands, brought the Eucharistic species down to Earth. Then, strangely enough, at the same time, I began to attend Courage meetings – and I started to have a more personal relationship with the priests. And what I mean by personal, I do not mean convivial or informal, but a relationship in which he got to know more about me on a deeper level: this is where the necessity of a spiritual director gains importance.
Over the years, I would come to know many priests, some I still consider friends, while others unmentionably betrayed and disappointed me, but, the ones who were humbly Faithful and resolutely committed to the Church, have remained close. And, I am forever grateful that they came into my life, because, without them, I would still be that little schoolboy wanting to know God and not knowing what to do; I would have remained isolated and scared; and most likely, would have become discouraged and returned to the old life that was familiar, but nonetheless deadly. Through these good men, my sins were washed away by the Lord and I was brought into union with God: just as St. Peter did the same for the once pagan Cornelius and his family. Lastly, and most blessedly, the eternal fate of my soul was radically changed when a young, but wise and caring priest decisively delivered me from the grip of satan. Then, as I looked up from the floor, where the thrashings of the devil had mercilessly thrown my body, I could see the countenance of Our Lord in the eyes of a man. I was finally free. Thank you dear priests - with all my heart.