xp_logs | Julio - Friday Morning

Julio slips away to do something he's been meaning to do for a good long while.

There was a particular scent to churches, a little floral, a little waxy, a little bit like incense and a little like the lemon polish they used on the rows of wooden pews. The scents managed to concentrate themselves in nooks and corners so that the confessional was like a distillation of that familiar scent. The light outside was on and the door stood slightly open, indicating that the priest was within, ready to hear the words of any penitent heart.

For Julio, it was almost like coming home. He was five again, clutching his Abuela's hand and watching the patterns the stained glass windows made on the floor. He could remember listening to the stories the priest told and being absolutely fascinated. If you had faith, then you would be safe. God would protect you.

It was always much simpler when you were a child.

He didn't even know why he was here. Well, no, he did. But when he had left the mansion that morning, it wasn't with the intent of going back to a church. He chewed on his lip for a moment, before sighing and making his way to the confessional door. His Abuela was a big believer in signs. And if this wasn't a giant blinking neon arrow, he didn't know what was.

He settled in the confessional, kneeling and crossing himself. "Bless me father, for I have sinned. It has been ...a very long time since my last confession."

There was a slight pause and a rustling, like someone shifting positions quite startled. But the voice that responded was warm, faintly accented, "Welcome back then. We've missed you. Let's take a moment and invite Jesus to join us. In the name of the Father, of the Son and of the Holy Spirit." The priest spoke briefly, asking for grace and peace on them both. "So...what did you want to talk about today?"

Julio was glad there was a screen between them so the priest couldn't see his jaw drop. It obviously had been a long time, he couldn't remember a priest ever being so informal. But then again, this was America. And America was weird. Oh well. When in Rome.

"I ...uh." Julio said, momentarily thrown. "Ah. I have a question really. Do you think that there is something that you could do, that is so terrible, that God will never forgive you?"

There was a rustling of paper, as of pages being turned, "In Matthew, chapter twelve, Jesus tells us 'He who is not with me is against me, and he who does not gather with me scatters. Therefore I tell you, every sin and blasphemy will be forgiven men, but the blasphemy against the Spirit will not be forgiven. And whoever says a word against the Son of man will be forgiven; but whoever speaks against the Holy Spirit will not be forgiven, either in this age or in the age to come.'" There was a bit of silence and then he continued, "The power of God's love is unconditional and endless. It is greater than anything in the world. Stronger than hate, stronger even than death. God always wants to forgive and only requires that you ask with a sincerely penitent heart. The only unforgivable sin is the one that Jesus warns us against-- refusing to ask for forgiveness. Do you want to be forgiven?"

Julio squeezed his eyes shut and rested his head on top of his tightly clasped hands. "Yes," he whispered. "More than you will ever know."

"What is it that you ask God to forgive you?" prompted the priest from behind the screen.

"I--" Julio could feel his heart hammering in his chest. He hadn't spoken it aloud in a very long time. It used to be so easy, to say what he had done. But saying a word over and over again causes it to lose it's meaning, and Julio wondered if that was true for all words. Even ones describing terrible things.

"I am a mutant." Julio said quietly. "My power is.. that I cause earthquakes. A year ago. A man... a man kidnapped me. He made me go to San Diego. And he-he forced me to... I--" Julio broke off, fought to regain control of himself. "I killed many people." He said finally.

This time the silence was longer, and the shifting a bit more disturbed. "Acts committed under coercion are not the same as acts committed willfully. How have you made amends in the last year? How have you helped those who you hurt?"

Julio stared at a space near the floor. "I have. In Kansas City, there was a blizzard. I helped there, people who were trapped, in need of food... I am learning to use my powers in a way to help people," he paused and laughed bitterly, "I even stopped one while I was in Japan. I have been informed I am never to try that again. But I have not been able to go back to San Diego. I am not strong enough. I still cannot even make myself go home." He said, voice soft and resigned.

"We are told that it is not enough to ask for forgiveness. The church requests a penance. Acts to show your faith and true regret. Do you know why this is?"

"Yes," Julio said, "It is to show your sincerity," but he phrased it like a question.

"God knows your heart. He's been with you since you were formed. Do you think that he needs you to prove to him how deep your regret goes? He already knows everything about you. The Church asks your penance but not for God's sake. He is greater and more forgiving than that. More so than we humans can possibly imagine. Sin causes harm--to you and to the community. That is why you do penance."

"How much penance will I have to do, before I will be forgiven?" Julio replied dully. "If not by God, then by the people that I hurt?" How many lives would he have to save before he could walk down the new streets of San Diego without fear or shame?

"There isn't a great accountant in the sky, tallying up your goods and evils. One broken window doesn't equal two Hail Marys or a lie a Glory Be. Penance is for humans because we need to prove ourselves. Long before modern psychology came up with the notion, the Church recognized that it wasn't enough for humans to just be told that they were loved and forgiven. We tend to want to earn it. God forgives you. The Church forgives you. That is the miracle of the sacrament. You do nothing to earn it; it's already yours because of God's great love for you."

Behind the screen, the priest set the Bible he was holding down, folded his hands together and leaned in. "You need to rebuild what your powers destroyed. That's your penance. Restore what you ruined. Until you forgive yourself."

Julio rested his head on his clasped hands and pursed his lips. Stopping the earthquake in Tokyo had felt good, but it still hadn't even made a dent in the chasm of guilt he felt in his soul. Even though he never spoke it out loud, never mentioned it to anyone but his therapist and now this priest, it still colored his every thought and every action. Even if he stopped a hundred hundred earthquakes, he didn't think he could even begin to undo the damage that had been done.

That didn't mean he wasn't going to try, though. To lay down and die, to accept his fate, would make the man responsible for the whole mess right. There was blood on Julio's hands, and even though he didn't choose to put it there, it was up to him to make it right.

"How?" Julio said at last, his voice slightly hoarse. "What would you have me do?" Whether that question was to the priest or someone else, Julio really didn't know.

"You can't undo what's been done. Because of your power, people are poorer. They're hungry, homeless, sick and they need more than your prayers and sorrow. What can you do to answer the call of service?"

The boy shut his eyes tightly. "Perhaps," he said slowly, "I keep thinking of ways to use my powers. Perhaps ..." he raised his head and looked at his hands. Two perfectly good hands. "There are people who do not have my kind of power, and yet they help. Perhaps. I can do that as well."

"Do that. Go out and find people who need your help and give it." There was a definite note of approval in the priest's voice. "Bow your head and pray for God's blessing."

Julio obliged, murmuring the words the way he learned them as a small boy. "Padre y Redentor mío; por ser tú quien eres, bondad infinita, y porque te amo sobre todas las cosas, me pesa de todo corazón haberte ofendido; también me pe sa porque puedes castigarme con las penas del infierno. Te ofrezco mis sufrimientos como expiación de mis pecados, propongo confesarme y cumplir la penitencia que me sea impuesta; ayudado de tu gracia propongo firmamente no pecar más y evitar las ocasiones próximas de pecado. Amén."

From there, the priest took over, "God, the Father of mercies, through the death and resurrection of his Son has reconciled the world to himself and sent the Holy Spirit among us for the forgiveness of sins; through the ministry of the Church may God give you pardon and peace, and I absolve you from your sins in the name of the Father, and of the Son, and of the Holy Spirit."

"Amen," said Julio. "Gracias, father."

"Your sins are forgiven. Go now and serve the Lord." There was a definite sound of joy in the voice on the other side of the screen. However unorthodox, this was obviously a man who loved his work.

Forgiveness, such a simple thing really. It was amazing how much power it had. Julio exhaled, letting go of a breath he hadn't been aware that he had been holding. Without another word he slipped out of the confessional into the church proper. A wizened old woman nodded to him from the pew where she had been perched, praying the rosary. He returned the nod and then looked up at the strained glass etching. He closed his eyes and nodded to himself, and then turned and walked out of the church.

For the first time in a long time, he felt like his feet were actually taking him somewhere.

*****

(extra special thanks to Sil for her wonderful socking)