We all want to be trusted, especially in places such as church. So it is with me. Last week, I learned that, despite having been there for three years, the priest of my now former parish, I am not trusted. I bitched about it last week. I tried to do the right thing and gather up the collections after filling in for the head usher.
Things truly did go sideways and you can read about that in the previous posts. I was so humiliated that I had to make the difficult choice to leave the parish in which I was baptized, confirmed and where I received First Communion. It sucks, because there are a lot of decent people.
And then there’s that priest. Any and all respect that I had for him both as a priest and as a human in general is gone forever. How would you like to be accused of trying to run away with the collection? Well, that’s what happened to me.
I will never forget his words. As I said previously, I will be able to forgive him, but that time is not now. Not even close.
Like I said, I made the choice that I didn’t want to make: I left a parish that has been very good to me. And now, I’m part of a parish that’s about twenty minutes away from my old one. It’s a bus ride as opposed to just walking around the corner.
Anyway, I thought I’d share my initial thoughts on my new parish, even though I’ve only been there twice. So far, so good. The new priest seems nice and he also seems welcoming.
The building is nice and old and has that old-timey smell to it. The sanctuary is more beautiful that the old one and it is a little bit smaller than the old one. Much like any other parish, there’s a place to genuflect and the pews seem comfortable.
The thing about me at church is that I like to be put to work. I introduced myself to the head usher and told him that I’m more than happy to assist. I also emailed the parish office, listing my qualifications. If I’m going to be in a new parish and feel like the senior at a new high school, I might as well make the most of it.
The new parish has a beautiful building and it’s right on the bus line. Literally. All I have to do is step off the bus and I’m at the church’s front door. As far as attendance goes, the new parish’s numbers are much like the old one when it comes to Tuesday and Saturday Masses. I’m not sure I’d even dare to go to Sunday Mass.
No, I plan to never return to my old parish. You see a photo of my old sanctuary to the top left. To the bottom, you see a picture of the sanctuary in my new parish, which, much like my old parish, I am not naming.
My first impression of my new parish is good.
Here’s hoping that that lasts.