A Sin for the Ages

A Sin for the Ages

“Confession is good for the soul.”

-Scottish proverb.

The lights were still shining through the stained-glass windows of St. Peter’s. Every second Tuesday of the month, Father O’Brien heard evening confessions for sinners who couldn’t take off from work if their souls depended on it. He was old school. The penitent took their place in a cramped cubicle and unloaded their transgressions on the elderly priest behind the curtain. Presumed anonymity loosens the lips and bares the soul.

The lines had been long that night. It was the first week of January, and listening to reports of excessive consumption of alcohol over the holidays, and office parties where workplace proprieties are tossed aside and pent-up desires are unleashed, had taken their toll on the elderly priest. Father O’Brien’s disappointment in the regrettable behavior of his flock had drifted off into the land of the weary.

Outside, a light rain was falling on the lone stranger pacing back and forth in front of the church, and who could only be seen as he entered the glare of the corner streetlight. Even at a distance and appearing only as a silhouette in the mist, the figure exuded anxiety and worry. He had been at it for two hours, and he was still undecided.

Drake had thought about this moment many times, a chance to rid himself of the troublesome guilt that burdened him. He couldn’t forgive himself; maybe a priest could.

The heavy wooden door creaked open, and Drake entered the cavernous church. The dim lighting, enhanced by a near conflagration of votive candles at the back of the church, revealed a tall, thin man with jet-black hair, dressed in black, and dripping wet. Remarkably, Drake remembered the routine, and he sat down in a pew behind the remaining lone customer.

Drake sought the courage to confess as he sat in the on-deck circle. It would be uncomfortable to say the least. He considered bolting and putting saving his soul off for another day, but then the confessional door swung open and the last person left. Show time for Drake.

He entered the confessional and knelt down as the little door before him slid open. He could only hope the translucent curtain separating him from the hand of salvation would conceal his identity and allow him to speak freely.

Again, he remembered.

“Bless me Father, for I have sinned. My last confession was... a really long time ago.”

“That is ok, my son. There is a special place in heaven for those who have strayed and have returned to the church. Now tell me your sins."

“I bite people in the neck and suck the blood out of them.”

“Say what?”

“I bite people in the neck and suck the blood out of them.”

Father O’Brien took a moment to digest what he was hearing.

“You bite people in the neck?”

“Yes.”

“And then you suck blood from them?”

“Yeah, that’s pretty much what I do. I’ve been doing it for so long that it just seemed natural, like it was ok... normal. But then a couple of months ago, I was watching a PBS special about boundaries, you know, respecting the personal space of others, and I started to wonder if I should be doing that.”

After a long evening of hearing and forgiving the sins of his flock, Father O’Brien was not in the mood.

“Sir, I need to ask you to leave. Confession is a blessed Sacrament, and this is not a place for jokes or pranks. Good night.”

Drake heard the movement as Father O’Brien got up to leave.

“What? This isn’t a joke, Father. I think I may have sinned. I feel like I need forgiveness. I need you to hear my confession.”

And then the slight hint of a smile…

“Wait a second. Did Father John put you up to this?”

“Father who? No. I’m serious. I need help, Father. You’re a priest, and I’m sinner… well, at least I think I may have sinned.”

Father O’Brien heard the sincerity in Drake’s voice. However bizarre Drake’s words were, it was obvious that this guy needed help.

“You think you may have sinned? You’re not sure whether biting people in the neck would be a sin?”

“And sucking the blood out of them.”

“Oh, yes, and sucking the blood out of them. How could you possibly think that might not be a sin?”

“Well, Father, I’ve given this a lot of thought… and… thanks for listening by the way…”

“No problem.”

“… and I’m not sure if it’s a sin if it’s in my nature.”

“Your nature? To bite people? How could that be?”

“It’s simple, Father. I should have told you at the outset. I’m a vampire, and that’s what vampires do.”

Now Father O’Brien’s mind went a little fuzzy. He would need to set his priestly mantle aside and put on his psychologist’s hat.

“What do you tell other vampires, Father?”

“Uh… you would be my first vampire.”

Father O’Brien was digging deep, searching for the right words. He wasn’t finding any.

“Have you been to confession before tonight?”

“Yes, Father.”

“And when was your last confession?”

“Three hundred and nine years ago. I looked it up before I came tonight. Sorry, I didn’t want to tell you in the beginning. I was afraid you'd think I wasn’t a good Catholic.”

“I see. Over three hundred years ago? I don’t think that’s possible.”

“We vampires live forever. You should know that, Father.”

“Yes, I should know that… and did you confess this sin when you made that confession?”

“Yes, Father.”

“And what did the priest tell you… three hundred and nine years ago?”

“He said I was nuts. That wasn’t very helpful.”

“I see…”

“That’s part of why I don’t go to confession that often.”

Father O’Brien was trying to think this through. His initial thought was to give Drake the same analysis he had previously been given, but as Drake himself said, that wouldn’t be helpful.

“You may be in the wrong place. I don’t think we’re talking sins here as much as we’re dealing with delusions. I can give you the name of a good psychologist who can help you.”

“What are you talking about? There’s no delusion here, Father. I’m a vampire as sure as God gave me extra-long incisors. Would you like to see them?”

Drake reached for the curtain.

“No! Anonymity is an important part of the seal of confession.”

“Sorry, Father.”

“Now… sir… you don’t really believe you’re a vampire, do you?”

“Father, I believe I’m a vampire because I am a vampire.”

“And you go around biting people in the neck?”

“And sucking their blood.”

“Oh, yes, and sucking their blood. How could I forget that?”

“Yes, that’s what I do. Would you like me to show you? Open the curtain, lean in and I’ll give you a little bite.”

“What?! No, I don’t think so.”

“It’ll be ok. I’ll just give you a little nibble, and…”

“No, no you…”

“Just so you understand, Father, I don’t suck all the blood out… just enough to wet my whistle. We gave up on sucking the life out of people centuries ago. We’re not uncivilized, you know. We just get a bad rap because violence in movies sells. Come on, open the curtain, and I’ll show you.”

Once again, Father O’Brien struggled to come up with appropriate words of comfort. He understood the dangers of engaging in delusion-shattering, but he felt the need to help. He would tread carefully.

“OK, let’s say you are a vampire…”

“That’s it! Now you’re getting it, Father.”

“I mean, I’m not saying for sure you’re a vampire. I’m saying that if you are in fact a vampire, how do we proceed?”

Now Drake was thinking.

“Sort of meeting me halfway on this. I’m ok with that, Father. Now, first order of business, before I confess, we need to figure out if what I’ve been doing is a sin.”

“Of course it’s a sin. You can’t go around biting people…oh, and sucking their blood.”

“But that’s what vampires do, Father. It’s my nature, or as Grandpa Dracula used to say, ‘To thine own self be true.’ How could it be a sin if I only do what I do? Is it a sin if birds fly or fish swim?”

“Dracula was your grandfather?”

“He raised me. One of those #%*&… oh, sorry, Father, one of those rotten vampire bounty hunters took out both my parents. Wood stakes right through the heart. It was nasty and very traumatizing for me. I was only a hundred and twenty-seven when it happened… a mere child in vampire years.”

“I’m sorry to hear about your parents.”

“Thank you, Father, I appreciate that. So, I was born to bite. It does seem a little unseemly, but that’s what I do. Sometimes I’m ok with it, and other times I feel… well, I’m conflicted.”

“Yes, I can see where the habit of biting people… and sucking their blood… could cause a troubled conscience. Have you given any thought to not doing that anymore?”

“I’ve tried, Father, but I can’t stop. It’s in my blood, so to speak. And like Grandpa Dracula said, ‘To your own self be true.’ He wouldn’t want me to stop.”

“Let me ask you this. How many people have you bitten in the neck… and suck blood out of them?”

“Oh, my goodness, Father, thousands.”

“I see. And I’m curious, is it always in the neck?”

“Yes, that’s a very important part of the tradition. Sometimes, if I get a squirmer, I’ll take out a little chunk of their ear. I feel bad about that.”

“Of course.”

Drake sensed a touch of sarcasm in Father O’Brien’s voice.

“Father, I get the feeling that you don’t really believe I’m a vampire.”

“Well, I don’t know that I do, but all that matters here is that you do.”

“No, Father. If I’m asking for God’s forgiveness, you need to understand the whole picture. You need to know who I am.”

“I don’t know that I can get there. I…”

“I’ll get you there, Father. You know how vampires don’t show a reflection in a mirror?”

“I’ve heard.”

“Well, I run into this a lot, so I always carry a little mirror with me, you know, just like how people carry an ID card or proof of citizenship papers.”

Drake reached into his pocket and pulled out a small mirror.

“Pull the curtain over a smidge, and I’ll give you this mirror. Then try to find my reflection in the mirror.”

Father O’Brien was tired, and this was the most puzzling, challenging confession he had ever encountered in all his years. At this point, he just wanted to keep the ball moving toward some kind of conclusion.

“Sure, why not?”

Father O’Brien took the mirror and held it at the side of the small window. He angled it to see inside the small cubicle on the other side of the curtain. He could see the entire space, but he couldn’t see Drake’s reflection in the mirror. He could see Drake’s silhouette through the curtain, but no matter which way he turned or twisted the mirror, he could not see a reflection.

“Uh… could you crack the door open a little to get some light in there?”

“Certainly, Father.”

Father O’Brien tried again, but despite all his efforts, he couldn’t see Drake in the mirror. He repeatedly looked into the mirror himself to make sure it was a real mirror. He was there; Drake wasn’t.

“This isn’t a trick mirror, is it, or are you some sort of magician?

Drake laughed.

“No, Father. I understand how this could be hard for you to believe, but then again, you are in the believing business. Don’t be going ‘Doubting Thomas’ on me and demand more proof.”

“Wait a minute. Aren’t you supposed to be afraid of crosses? We’ve got crucifixes all over the place here.”

“Old wives’ tale, Father. The cross doesn’t bother vampires, especially if you’re Catholic.”

Father O’Brien started to laugh.

“What’s so funny, Father?”

“I just thought of a way to prove you’re a vampire. How about I drive a wooden stake through your heart and see if you die? Ha, ha, ha.”

“That’s not funny, Father.”

“I guess that was a little insensitive, especially considering what happened to your parents. I’m sorry.”

“I forgive you, Father.”

“Thank you.”

Father O’Brien took a quick look at his watch.

“Listen, we’ve got to wrap this up. I’ve got Bingo in half an hour. It seems like your heart is in a good place, so all is forgiven. For your penance…”

“Hold on, Father. You can’t just do that. First, I need to know if the biting and sucking is a sin.”

Calling out the Bingo numbers was one of Father O’Brien’s favorite things in life. He should be setting up at this very moment.

“No evil intent, no sin. That’s the same for canon law as it is for civil law. Go in peace.”

“Wait, Father. What about future possible sins?”

“What? I can’t forgive you for things you haven’t done yet.”

“I understand. Well, I won’t be able to stop, so I guess I’ll just have to keep coming back every week… for the evening confessions, of course.”

Father O’Brien looked concerned. He wasn’t anxious for repeat visits from the unusual stranger.

“I just remembered. The church does have special provisions for situations like this. It’s called the ‘Ongoing Irresistible Acts That Can’t Be Helped’ exception. You are forgiven for all future biting.”

“And blood sucking.”

“Yes, and all future blood sucking.”

“So, I’m good?”

“Yes, now please go in peace.”

“What about my penance. You’ve got to give me some kind of penance, Father.”

“Oh my goodness. Fine. Say five Our Fathers and three Hail Marys.”

“The Our Father… that’s the long one. Could we flip that around, Father? Could I do three Our Fathers and Five Hail Marys?”

“Oh my God! Fine! Three Our Fathers and five Hail Marys! Now, would you please go in peace?”

“That’s very generous of you, Father. Thank you. And there’s one more thing.”

“What’s that?”

“My children aren’t baptized. Would you baptize them?”

Father O’Brien didn’t relish the idea, but baptism is critical to the faith.

“Yes, certainly.”

“It would have to be at night.”

“Of course. How many children do you have?”

“Six thousand three hundred and twenty-seven… and one on the way.”

Father O’Brien dropped his head, covered his face with both hands, and gently massaged his forehead.

“Do you need their names now, Father?”

A barely audible groan could be heard coming from the confessional.