Plastic Cars and Plywood Houses

Another little nicety you receive with the Catholic faith is confession. It’s human nature that confession (for non-psychopaths, that is) lightens the load on one’s conscience. It’s good to confess stuff. The problem with this is that there are certain contributors to guilty consciences, that if you were to confess to your wife, for one, would result in unfortunate and undesirable domestic consequences. Then there may be others, that if confessed to the States Attorney’s office, would precipitate a considerable jail term, fines, and reparations. As a practicing Catholic, however, all you need to do, to avoid all of this undesirable grief, is go down to the church on Saturday afternoon and tell the priest, who is hearing confessions that day, how you, for example, twice used the Lord’s name in vain, had some very unclean thoughts about your kid’s Sunday school teacher, and knocked over the Oak Park branch of the First National Bank. So, after spilling your guts, you will, in turn, be given a penance, such as doing the Stations of the Cross or some “Our Fathers,” and then, you’re good to go until your next confession. It’s as simple as that. Easy-peasy. This is not to say that being a Catholic is not without some inconvenient disadvantages. To my knowledge, it’s the only faith that sends you to purgatory right after you die. I don’t want to sound like a heretic here (although if I were, I could go to confession and be absolved) but if you ask my opinion, purgatory is just a slippery scheme for the Church to extract a few more bucks, even after you’re dead. Here’s how it works: When you croak, instead of floating straight up to heaven on a cloud, as one might expect, you go instead to this intermediate place called purgatory. I imagine it to be much like the customer waiting room at your local Firestone Complete Auto Care repair shop where you sit, drink stale coffee, and read People Magazine while they put new tires on your car or replace the alternator. Once in purgatory, you’re held ransom, listening to the voop, voop of the pneumatic wrenches from the service bay until your relatives and loved ones purchase enough indulgences to buy your way out. It’s the same principle employed by many South American prisons. The catch is that nobody’s told how much it’s going to cost to ransom you, or even if you’re still there at all. So, just to be on the safe side, your loved ones are compelled to keep purchasing indulgences indefinitely. This is not as much of a total rip-off as it may sound like on the surface. Indulgences, you understand, are transferable. If the person for whom you have been shelling out, has unbeknownst to you, already transitioned out of purgatory, then those indulgences may be assigned to a secondary recipient who in turn may apply them against his or her ransom expenses. This may involve a small processing fee.[1] If you’re thinking to yourself right now, I’m sold! I want to convert to Catholicism, but exactly how much is all of this going to cost me? Then you should know that, under certain circumstances, indulgences are sometimes available at substantially discounted prices. In fact, I know of at least two individuals who have never paid full price for an indulgence in their lives. One of them is my Aunt Clara. The other one isn’t. At the church Aunt Clara attends, (Holy Mother of God) they have a special promotion that they call First Fridays. If one attends their special first Friday of the month masses for three months in a row and is in a state of grace, they’re given the opportunity to purchase two indulgences for the price of one, with no limits. This is an excellent value and a good opportunity to stock up. Speaking candidly like this about matters of the Church, makes me guilty of blasphemy. Nonetheless, this is a pardonable sin, provided I don’t drag the Holy Spirit into the mix. Defiant irreverence of the Holy Spirit, on the other hand, is an unforgivable sin and something you really want to avoid. Sinning can be a veritable minefield, if you don’t know what you’re doing. That’s why the Church offers helpful Catechism classes. I highly recommend them. We arrived at the point in the Mass where the priest prayed for the Holly Father in Rome, our leaders in Washington, some victims of a flood along the Mississippi River, and the unborn in the womb, to name a few. He then turned the supplication over to us, in a moment of silence, to pray our own petitions and delineate some of the blessings for which we were truly thankful. I used the opportunity to thank God for Kathy and little Kelly, our beautiful homes, my ZR1 Corvette, and of course, I was thankful for my grandfather who made this all possible for me without having to work a single day in my adult life. Once again, I glanced over to my beautiful wife, who was solemnly kneeling in prayer, her head bowed reverently. Perhaps it was shallow-minded and superficial, but nonetheless, I was appreciative, that Kathy had on that wispy spring dress she was wearing, white hose, and my favorite sexy shoes. The old Italian woman, next to whom I was sitting, shot me a disgusted glance, making a guttural sound from deep in her throat. “She’s my wife, you old crone!” I responded in a loud voice that broke the sacred silence, and echoed blaringly throughout the hallowed sanctuary. This is an example, Kathy tells all our friends, of why she doesn’t like taking me to church with her. [1] A complete delineation of fees, and explanation of terms and conditions are available upon request. Indulgences may be tax deductible. Check with your tax advisor. Offer not valid in Florida or Ohio. Sorry, this offer extends to baptized and confirmed members of the Catholic faith only.