Growing up catholic meant spending years trying to discern what qualified as a “sin” so you had something to tell the priest during confession. “Forgive me father for I have sinned; I lied to my mom, and I stole cookies from the cookie jar” - wtaf?!? #easter
Wow, this is bringing back the memories.
We had a priest who actually hated delivering Mass.
He would cut out the "sign of peace, (shaking hands with neighbors) because it took to long and he knew we didn't mean it.
He would shorten everything.
He could deliver Easter Mass in 20 minutes. We would hope to get him, get in get out.
