“Padre, your unquenchable optimism is entirely untrustworthy.”
            “What do you mean, Alberto?”
            “I mean that all my life you’ve said 'this will improve', 'just wait and things will turn out better', 'have faith'.  Sometimes things work out, sometimes they don’t.  So I don’t know what to do with what you say. I can’t depend on it being wrong, and certainly can’t depend on it being right. Completely and entirely untrustworthy, that’s what you are.”
            “That’s because you are young and impatient,” the Padre says, adding a smile. 
            “Yes, yes of course I’m young and impatient, that’s what being young is all about, if I was old and patient I wouldn’t be who I am, I would be who you are and that’s one of you too many.”
            “Young, impatient and with an impertinent tongue.  This is not a combination that will do you well for you life.  Some may not be as patient as I am, you know.”
            “Padre, no one is as patient as you are and that is why I take advantage of you.”
            “Alberto, you take advantage of me because you know in your heart I am the one person you cannot really take advantage of, and the fact comforts you.”
            “I think that is true.  You, alone of all men and women, are entirely unswayable.  Why is that Padre?  Your brothers in Christ are not nearly so stalwart.  They sway with the wind more than peasants or politicians.  A clink of gold, a subtle threat, they turn whichever way suits their fat bellies and fatter minds.  You never turn.”
            “It is my unquenchable optimism, Alberto. Do you have something to confess or does another matter bring you here to my humble church?”
            “Confess!  Ha! Yes, Padre, I have much to confess. Will you hear my confession or am I beyond all hope of the Church and salvation?”
            “The Church may have lost hope in you, Alberto, but salvation is always waiting.  Confess, and maybe this time it will truly take hold in your heart.”
            “Well then, Padre, I confess.  I confess it all.  Here in this miserable hovel you call a church I confess my sins of wanting life and wealth and freedom.”   
            “If all you see here is a miserable hovel, then you have never tasted freedom.  I, Alberto, am the freest  man you have ever met.”
            “Ha! Yes, Padre, no man is more free than you, except maybe the prisoners chained up in the governor’s prison. They may be more free.  They have no worries, and servants waiting on them day and night asking them interesting questions about how they spend their days, or they are left to enjoy their freedom for years on end until they are so free they are entirely forgotten and finally are freed by Gabriel himself to rise to heaven. Yes, I envy your freedom, but not as much as those the governor has captured.  Please, let us change places.”
            “What do you confess, Alberto?”
            “Still after me Padre?  Alright.  What the prison guards will never hear even if they were to cajole me through torture and pain I will tell you.  I confess.”
            “What do you confess, Alberto?”
            “Padre, before heaven and earth, and most importantly before you, I confess.  I have stolen.”
            “What have you stolen, Alberto?”
            “What have I stolen?!  Ha!  What haven’t I stolen, Padre.  Gold, a lot of gold.  Jewels, horses, food, guns, land.  I even stole a woman once, but she did not much like being stolen and removed herself from my presence.”
            “No one is condemned for stealing food. These other things, however.  Are you repentant?”
            “Let me finish!  It has been a long time, Padre, and now that these things roll from my tongue it feels glorious to continue. I confess I have killed.”
            “You have killed a man?”
            “Killed a man?  Killed many men, Padre, and their wives and their children.  I’ve also killed many who had the appearance of men but were nothing of the sort.  I don’t count them, for I’d have to begin counting all the cattle I’ve slaughtered and sheep I’ve butchered. To be honest I feel more for the cattle and sheep than the men. The animal did nothing except live.  The men, they did everything except live.”
            “Live the way you saw fit.”
            “Live at all Padre.  Do you think I would even bother with this life I live if others were willing to step up and embrace what their lives are supposed to be.  I am a bellowing bull because no one raises a whimper in the face of slaughter. I am medicine for sick souls.”
            “You, Alberto are not a medicine. You, my friend, are a tumor to us.  You take your passion and turn it against your brothers and sisters.”
            “Unlike you, Padre?  You condemn the poor and lowly for their yearning to be free in this life, and you don’t say a word to those who put heavy burdens on the back of your people?”
            “You do not know what I say to the wealthy and politicians, Alberto.”
            “I see, I am to confess, but you are to remain quiet and ashamed.”
            “You do not confess for me, Alberto, but for yourself.  I confess for myself each morning
and evening. That is why I am free and you are a prisoner.”
            “Thank you for the sermon Padre.  What shall I do now with my confession. A hail Mary, two Our Fathers.  A good work for the orphans of the village maybe?  A few coins in your coffers?”
            “I expect nothing from you Alberto.  For some a prayer or penance is worth gold for their soul. There is nothing for you to pay more than you are already paying. The more you do the more penance you perform. Why are you here?”
            “To confess, Padre, of course.  Isn’t that why I always used to come here? And maybe to partake of the Eucharist.  Will you offer me a wafer, Padre, for the salvation of my soul?”
            “You mock the meal, Alberto.  I expected more from you.  The murders, the theft, the lawlessness, these things I saw in you from an early age, it has always been a path you could take.  But, to insult the holiness of the bread and wine? You, a man who once consecrated the elements, who once gave men and women their grace? You who baptized in faith now mock that faith?  I am disappointed.  What do you want?”
            “Have I finally quenched your optimism, Padre?  What is more hopeless than a priest who has turned his back on all things holy?”
            “I am disappointed, Alberto, not without hope.  You tempt the Spirit and yet, the Spirit is not easily overcome.  I can offer you gold, which is why you are here.  But, the Spirit will pay it back, and you will pay it back sevenfold.”
            “And yet, all I care about is the gold now Padre. What will happen is entirely different than what is happening, and I have learned, even from you, that it is best for me and my family to forget the future and live only for this present that I can change. In this is my hope, not in your fruitless predictions and warnings.”
            “Your mother…”
            “My mother believed, Padre and now she is in heaven reaping the benefits of her belief,
while her sons and daughters were scattered to poverty and worse because her faith meant nothing in the present.  She left nothing but her hope and faith, and such things do not feed a starving child.”
            “Yes, this is what she left you, and you squandered it away so now you have nothing, and know nothing, and feel nothing.”
            “There you are wrong Padre. I feel a great deal. I feel happiness and I feel sorrow, I feel rage and I feel passion.  I do not feel hope.  Hope I leave for you.  Your gold I will take.  In the name of the father and of the son and of the Holy Ghost, give me your gold, Padre and all your sins will be forgiven.”