Thank God for the gift of confession

Msgr. Pedro Lopez-Gallo

Many years ago, during the time I worked at the Vatican, I toured East Germany, which was still under Soviet rule. I walked from the Berlin wall to the suburbs, saddened by the devastation of Allied bombing years earlier.

Tired and wanting to return to my hotel, I got into a taxi. It was easy to recognize that the driver was Latino, not Teutonic. "Where are you from?" I asked in Spanish.

He was surprised. "How did you know I speak Spanish?" When I answered, "And now I know you are from the south of Spain," he rather uncomfortably asked, "Are you are a sorcerer or a fortune teller?"

"No, I am a priest."

"My God, I never thought I would find a priest in this region, not having seen one since I left my country to join the Red Brigade. I believe Communism will save the world."

"I disagree. I studied as a child in Spain. Franco...."

He interrupted, shouting, "I hate Franco. I would kill him."

Wanting to learn more about this man, I asked him to have dinner with me at my hotel. He replied, "I hate God, I hate the Church, and I hate the rich, and you are one of these, Father. Believe me, it is my job to drive you, but I hate you."

I told him: "I, on the other hand, have love in my heart for you. Come, a good steak will cure our hungry bellies and our spirits will enjoy some good wine."

He reluctantly accepted, repeating the Latin saying, "Vinum laetificat cor hominis" (Wine makes the human heart happy).

The truth was, in 1938 the troops of General Franco had shot Arturo's father, an honest worker in a baker's shop who sold bread to the Red insurgents.

"He was selling bread, not selling ideas against Franco's regime, and Franco was backed by the Catholic bishops. Father, it was awful. From that day I decided to kill, to destroy the Church of Christ. How many people I killed, I do not know."

Then came his incredible admission: "Father, I am not a taxi driver. I'm a KGB agent."

I was completely shocked. Tears came as my mind flashed back to my youth. I had been a boy of 10 during the horrendous war in Spain.
"Father, why do you weep?" Arturo asked.

I replied: "From the day of my birth I was surrounded by war: the religious persecution in Mexico, the Chinese-Japanese War, the Spanish war, the Second World War, you name it, but Jesus came to bring peace. and this peace is not established on earth."

Suddenly, Arturo got up to leave, saying he should get back to his cab. He refused to accept payment for the ride, but asked, "Will you hear my confession, Father?"

I thought I would faint! Realizing that Canon law dictates the proper place to hear confessions is in a church or oratory, I also asked myself if I had faculties to hear his confession, this man who had killed innocent people. I also asked myself, in such a situation with no priests available, how could I simply abandon a repentant sinner?

Without further hesitation I got into the taxi and sat down. Arturo, kneeling, confessed sins spanning his whole life. I felt crucified with Christ and, as He did on the Cross, I also prayed, "Father, forgive him." Then, with the power the sacrament of holy orders gives, I raised my hand in absolution.

Before we parted, I handed Arturo my personal card: Rev. P. Lopez-Gallo, Official of the Congregation of the Clergy, Vatican City.

Back in my office, new problems were waiting for me. In my work in the Vatican I had to deal with letters from all around the world: complaints, questions regarding new bio-technical discoveries, requests concerning faculties, permits to acquire or sell properties: inquires without end.

The years passed. Arturo became only a memory in my mind and prayers. Then, on April 18, 1972 - I remember the date because my mother was visiting in Rome and she was due for a medical check that day - my telephone rang and the receptionist informed me: "You are requested to go to parlour 3."

"Arturo! You are here! Why are you dressed as a Franciscan monk?" His anwer was only a smile. I recognized him, after almost 20 years since our encounter in East Berlin, but I was astonished by his frailness; his face was emaciated and pale.

"Arturo, are you sick?" I asked.

"I am okay, Father. I came to thank you for hearing my confession. So many things have happened. I was wounded and taken to a hospital; the good sisters there helped me. I joined the Franciscan Brothers.

"Now I have pancreatic cancer, with only a short time to live, but I am happy to go to God. I wanted to thank you for having reconciled me to God and, by the way, my name now is Brother Placidus."

We embraced and chatted some more. Brother Placidus died a week later. I thanked God for the precious gift of confession.

Msgr. Lopez-Gallo's columns are available in two volumes for $20 each from St. Andrew's Church Supply, 305 W. 8 Ave. in Vancouver, toll-free 1-800-663-7161. Proceeds will go to Hogar de Nazareth Orphanage in Mexico, which he sponsors.