It All Began Innocuously Enough...

After having not stepped into a Catholic church for mass in twenty plus years I decided to go to church with my mother at our old local parish near the house I grew up in. My mother is still a practicing Catholic and I wanted to be there for her. The mass unfolded perfunctorily and at the time when the communion was being given I decided that I needed some fresh air. The weight of this decrepit and decreasingly relevant religious practice had settled upon my own beliefs and I had enough for the moment.
I walked toward the back door, glancing around and realizing how run down the whole building looked. Cracked paint and worn pews, the dark red carpet stained with even darker hues, suggested years of neglect. Stained glass windows, now faded and patched in some areas with colored plexiglass that could not match the original colors or their original shapes. To the left, those baroque confessionals where I myself confessed so many prepubescent sins that now seem quaint and laughable. The wooden frame of the entranceway, water damaged with flaking paint slowly peeling off over many years time.
Almost out the door my swinging hand connected with the shoulder of an elderly lady sitting at the end of the very last pew. Even though I was only walking it felt as if my hand had landed with solid force against her. I saw her wince and I immediately stopped and kneeled to ensure she was alright.
"I’m fine, just leave me be." She proclaimed through gritted teeth as she grabbed her shoulder. Her face wore the expression of someone that had just been attacked.
"I feel terrible, is there anything I can do? If it really hurts perhaps we can call an ambulance?" I was as much concerned for her attitude as her health.
"I said just leave me be. You people have done quite enough!" She bared her teeth as she spat out that last sentence.
Not sure exactly what she meant, I decided it was best to leave her be and to continue out the doors, staying close in case she changed her mind about wanting help. Crossing the threshold of the old rundown church out into the beautiful late morning sun, I couldn’t help but think that if God really does have a church, it would be held outside on a day like this. Light wispy clouds hung sporadically in the deep blue sky. The sun, still an hour away from it’s apex, cast it’s warm light everywhere, without the harsh glare that would come along later in the day. Full trees dotted the street. The air was cool but not uncomfortable and the absence of traffic only added to feelings of an almost urban bliss. I drew in the deepest breath I could thinking about how I wanted to be outside with the people closest to me on a day like today.
My daydreams were interrupted by a horse cry, "There he is!" coming from inside the church.
I turned and could see the old lady, still clutching her shoulder, pointing toward me and the little fat old pastor marching to the door, holding his robes up to keep himself from tripping. His jowled little face was red and his lips were tight. His brow was knitted and he stopped right at the edge of the door, just out of the sun. "Come here young man." He commanded.
I was not accustomed to that tone being used towards me so I stood there, a little in shock and not quite comprehending why I was being ordered around. When I did start to move the priest called out again, "I said come here!"
I felt that it was important enough to ensure that the elderly lady was okay and to ignore these pastor’s demands. I walked back into the church, feeling the weight of it surround me. The pastor grabbed my arm and led me to the front of the church right by the alter. It seemed the whole church was gathering around, even the elderly lady, now apparently free of any injury.
"Who are you that you think you can come into a house of god and injure our worshipers without any regard for their well being?" Questioned the priest.
I felt confused, "Wha- I bumped into her and stopped to see-"
"Don’t you lie to me, boy! This is a place of worship! You are a sinner!" He proclaimed.
"What are you talking about? It was an accident and I did stop to se-" Things had seemed to have spiraled into another realm.
"Sinner!" The crowd said all at once.
"You are evil and do not deserve to be among Us in god’s house. You are as foul as Lucifer himself. You are wicked and you will surely burn in the fires of hell!" Came the pastor’s next verbal assault. His face had grown even more red and his jowls shook as he spoke. The people around seemed to echo his sentiments.
I backed away as best I could and retreated to the alter. The priest followed but the people did not. The large old wooden crucifix which bore the sad and dying Jesus, looked down upon this scene. I understood a small part of the anguish on his face. The priest hounded me, he kept repeating similar phrases of damnation over and over. Where ever I moved on the alter, the priest kept following, his verbal assault never lessening. Jesus’s gaze, up on the old crucifix, also seemed to be following us. As my anger rose I wasn’t sure for whom Jesus’s expression was for.
"If you do not repent, you will surel-" The priest was cut off in mid sentence. This time I did the interrupting.
"Fuck you!" I had reached my limit and decided to seize some initiative. At their stunned silence, I quickly and briefly explained what had happened and also restated my concern toward the old woman and her potential need for medical attention.
It was if my words held no meaning and once the priest regained his composure, he used my exclamation to fuel his verbal assault on my soul. This time he laid his hands on my chest and pushed me. I barely took a half of a step back and grabbed the old man around the collar of his robes. Lifted him up enough to gain leverage and slammed him down onto the floor of the alter, I could feel the air rush from his lungs. My anger was unchecked now, "Leave me the fuck alone!" I screamed into his face. I let go of him because even in my rage I did not want to cause any real harm. The crowd parted for me as I walked briskly to the side door. I hopped the bannister and walked around to the front of the church, looking in at the scene.
"I’m going to sue you for assault!" The priest screamed from up on the alter.
As I stood there waiting for my anger to subside I suddenly remembered my mother was in there somewhere. In the next few moments it seemed as if the church had gone back to it’s mass. I walked to my car realizing the day had grown overcast and the leaves were all gone from the trees. I sat in the car and the last thing I remember thinking before I woke up was that I was ashamed and that my mother was probably embarrassed. I couldn’t shake the feeling of being disrespectful. Not to God or his followers, but disrespectful to my mother and something that she had felt was still important.