The Nature of Sin

            While attending mass on Wednesday, when it came to the part where everyone lines up to take communion, I got up like everyone else. As I approached the priest I crossed my arms in front of me and bowed my head. I don’t know that anyone really paid attention to what I did other than the priest but I always feel like a spotlight has been directed at me when I do that. I haven’t committed any horrible crime that prohibits me from taking communion. I simply remarried without first having my previous marriages annulled.

            In the Catholic faith that places me in what is known as Grave Sin. I’ve heard some argue there is no such thing as Grave Sin. They claim there are only two kinds of sin: Venial and Mortal. A rose by any other name. The Dictionary of the Liturgy defines sin as “An offense against God by thought, word, deed, or omission.” It further explains that a sin is venial if the matter is not grave, there was insufficient reflection given, or if it was committed against their will. On the other hand, a mortal sin exists if three conditions are met: it is a serious matter, there was sufficient reflection, and if the sin was committed with full consent of free will. I suppose if those are my only two choices I have to go with the second option. I certainly hope I knew what I was doing when I got married the last time.

            That explains my actions on Wednesday. I remarried seven years ago to a wonderful woman. We have a great relationship. It’s not all rainbows, unicorns, and lollipops but it beats the hell out of my first two marriages. We support each other’s dreams. We pamper each other most of the time. We bust each other’s chops when the situation demands. I wouldn’t have it any other way. We just never got around to going through with the annulment. We have started gathering all the stuff a couple times, but the list is long. I’ve been married twice (don’t judge) so I have to have two of everything: both Marriage certificates, both divorce decrees. I need contact information for both ex-wives. One I haven’t heard from in over twenty years. On a happy note, I have all of that. At least I think I do. My list is easy because I was never baptized as a child. I was the youngest of five and my parents grew away from the church with the birth of each subsequent child. My two older sisters went to a Catholic school. They and my brother were all baptized when they were little. My brother was even named after the local parish priest. Or so we were told growing up. I met that priest several years ago, but that’s another story for another time.

            My wife comes from a very devout Irish Catholic family. Their roots in their parish in Illinois go back generations. She not only needs the marriage certificate, divorce decree, and ex-husband’s contact information, but also a current copy of her baptismal certificate with her marriage information on it. Apparently they keep track of that kind of stuff. The Catholic Church is the original Big Brother. She’ll have to go to Illinois for that. The entire process can take a year or more to complete. It’s really kind of a pain in the ass to get remarried in the Catholic Church. Not that divorce is ever a walk in the park regardless of your religious beliefs.

            That brings us back to my actions at Wednesday’s mass. Because I am considered in a state of either grave or mortal sin, depending on the definition, I am forbidden from the taking of the Eucharist until this matter has been resolved. I respect that. If I didn’t I would be going to a Catholic Church. I could just as easily go to any number of protestant churches and continue on like nothing is wrong. I would probably fit right in without missing a step at an Anglican or Episcopal Church. Their masses are remarkably similar from what I’ve seen. I’ve even heard them referred to as “Catholic Lite.” You know, “All the ritual and half the guilt.” But it wouldn’t be the same to me. Go with what you know, I say.

            So that was the first impression Father Jeff had of me. We had not yet met. He is apparently the new parish priest. I only met the last one a few times. I have to admit I was not impressed with him. In conversation he came across as a little thick. I have no opinion as yet of this new priest. My mother-in-law seems to like him. It’s not like my opinion of him is going to make any difference in the price of noodles in Shanghai anyway. I guess it goes both ways. I suppose he wondered what my story was when I approached him in the front of church to receive the Lord’s blessing instead of the Eucharist. I think I may even have piqued his interest after the service when I was introduced to him by the old friend I wrote about yesterday. He might even recognize me at mass this weekend. But then again, he may not. Either way is okay with me.