The Oath

The Oath

(... Someone touch Cain!)

— I spoke a little while ago with Don Nicola, and he told me that he is expecting you on tomorrow afternoon, at four o'clock! — my wife Olympia tells me, just back from Mass.

— Eh..., hmm..., is it really necessary that I go and talk to a priest? What do I tell him? — I answer undecided.

— You go there..., and tell him everything; unload to him everything you have inside, and you will see that you will come out more serene, and your rancor will end; his words will be able to cheer you up, and above all reassure you, as happened to me, after I told him about our current condition. He is a holy man, you know, and with him, it is like talking to Jesus our Lord; you will see that, in the end, with his words and his fraternal advice, he will be able to lighten your soul; and it is what we both need, to return to living peacefully, now that we are elderly; please, go there! — she finishes.

— Okay, as you want..., tomorrow I will go! — I answer, not convinced, but more to keep her happy, than anything else.

«The next day, I enter the church, a few minutes before the agreed time. The church is small, is on the outskirts, and is dedicated to the Madonna Del Carmelo; quite far from the inhabited center of my village, Saviliano, but quite close to the farm that was owned by me on the Serralonga plateau: where my family and I lived for many years. Taking to attend this parish, more for the short distance than anything else, Olympia had had the opportunity to meet the parish priest, Don Nicola, being fascinated by the simplicity of her ways and by the spiritual transport that she induced with her homilies; and I began to frequent it too. The church is empty, except for a lady who prays, sitting at the first pew, and another who, seeing me, comes to meet me and asks me: — Do you have to confess?

— No..., but I have an appointment at four with Don Nicola! — I reply promptly.

— Don Nicola is confessing someone...: in the meantime, take a seat here! — she tells me, pointing to a chair placed outside the entrance to the sacristy. Before the woman goes away, I tell her: - If you have the chance, let him know that Frank Studiante is here, thank you.

— Now I can not, but as soon as the person who is confessing comes out, I tell him! — she reassures me; and then going to sit next to the lady who is praying, and starting to talk to her. Several minutes later the door of the sacristy opens, and a gentleman comes out; the man smiles at me, "You must have been absolved of your sins!" — I think, responding to her smile. Immediately afterward the lady enters, and leaves almost immediately going directly to speak with the other, who, despite having resumed praying, makes a gesture of annoyance on hearing what is reported to her, and comes back to me: - Can enter! — she tells me, and then closing the door behind her. The sacristy, I've never entered in one in my life, has all the features of a professional studio; the desk is placed in the center of the room, with a black leather executive chair on one side, and two for guests on the other; a crucifix and a photo of the reigning pontiff hanging on the wall behind; the computer turned on, put in stand-bay; a wardrobe with four doors, two of which with smoked glass, a sitting area in brown leather on the turned on, put in stand-bay; a wardrobe with four doors, two of which with smoked glass, a sitting area in brown leather on the other side, and a hanger on the side of the front door: an office...: as I had that, in the years of my activities. Don Nicola, a small man with a beard and hair both short and white and wearing a chasuble and stole, is sitting at his desk, reading what, at first glance, seems to me to be his breviary. Hearing me enter and close the door, he looks up and smiles at me; a reassuring smile appears on his face, which I see it in his eyes too. Over the years, I have learned to understand immediately what these fantastic organs transmit, looking at you.