My First Real Confession

In the mid 90's I was younger, slimmer and had more hair on my head. I was in grad school, working and living on my own. Like any single young man, I had my share of relationships and encounters. My family was always supportive and I had lots of close friends. I thought life was good. 

Yet, with so much going for me I was often upset, angry and frustrated with my life. Instead of addressing it in a responsible manner, I acted out. This involved self medication via binge drinking, overeating, casual sex, and lying. Whenever any one of my relationships questioned my behaviors, I chalked it up to me being immature. I used that excuse so much that I perfected it. I got away with so much. I knew I was immature but soon realized I was selfish and manipulative. It was a crazy cycle of deceit and games. 

One day, I woke up after a long and uneventful Saturday night of partying and I heard a voice tell me, "Go to church." 

Some people might call this experience delusional.  Others might say it was the Holy Spirit. It was more like walking into a dark room and turning on the lights. Your eyes hurt at first. They burn and you want to keep your eyes closed. Fortunately, I kept them open. 

Going to church as a kid was always a tedious event. I never had positive experiences. All I remember was a belt and a cheese danish. The former was used to get me from under the bed that I used to crawl under. I hated going to Sunday school. I wasn't allowed to ask questions, I had to sit still, and could never understand why there was a guy dying on a cross. 

The latter was my reward for attending class and mass (Roman Catholic word for church service). Near our church there was a bakery that had the best pastries.  As we walked by I always asked my mom for a cheese danish. She always gave in despite the hassle I gave her. 

This reward versus punishment experience of religion is like a seesaw. Up and down and up and down. That is not how we are meant to experience our faith. Who knew it would get better and that I had to go through so much before I could understand why. 

As I entered St. Nicholas Church  that Sunday afternoon in 1995, I noticed that the mass was over. The priest put the chalice away and brought out a vestment (priest wardrobe). He explained the many colors of the church and how during this time of Lent was one of prayer, fasting and giving alms. Next, he encouraged everyone to continue their Lenten sacrifice. He also said that it was never too late to participate. That was the game changer for me. Father Robert Cormier's words made me feel welcomed. Although I had missed most of the mass, it didn't matter. I had taken the first step and was on a new journey. 

Three weeks later I participated in a Via Crucis, or Way of the Cross Friday service. This was no ordinary service. There was a massive crowd in the streets in Jersey City Heights. Atop a truck stood Fr. Bob who stopped periodically and preached from a bullhorn. He explained the passion of Christ in simple but powerful terms. I felt called and wanted to know more. 

As the service ended in the school gym, Fr. Bob wished everyone a good night and made some quick announcements. One of these included hearing confession until the last person. The next thing I remember was sitting in a chair in front of Fr. Bob. 

Now, I must share that I don't remember my first confession. Probably because I was hiding under a bed. In fact, I never did it because as a family we never celebrated that sacrament. Kids model what they see adults do in their home. My parents never hid under a bed, but like many people, they avoided growing in their faith. I did too. 

So, when Fr. Bob greeted me I tapped into my schema and let out those famous lines of so many movies, "Father, forgive me for I have sinned." What else was I supposed to say?  I didn't know and most certainly didn't remember. Fr. Bob guided me and I started to share my anger and frustrations. I also included the choices I made and how I had hurt others. 

Although I do not recall the exact words  Fr. Bob said to me, I do know how he made me feel: Welcomed. Loved. Accepted. And that was it. He showed mercy and compassion. He showed me the love of God. 

I will always remember my real first confession. 

Rest in peace Fr. Bob.

Fr. Robert J. Cormier

1 December 1956 - 13 May 2014