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“Brothers and sisters, how is everyone feeling?” Father Matteo asks, charming as he smiles at all of us. There are excited murmurs that get whispered back to him and his smile only widens. “That’s wonderful. I’d like for us to reflect on this week’s gospel. God asked Abraham to take his only son up to the mountain. Who was paying attention?” Sadly, I was not, but that gets made up for when a dozen hands shoot up in the air. “Good. What did God ask of Abraham after that?”
Kendall beams when Father Matteo points at her. She sits up straight and proud as she answers. “God asked Abraham to kill his son, Isaac.”
“And why do we think he did that?”
“He wanted to test Abraham’s loyalty to him,” Bryce says, calling out the answer before Father Matteo even picks him. I try not to let myself prickle with irritation.
“And why would he need to do that?” Father Matteo asks, ripping me away from my stewing. When no one raises their hands, he smirks. “I see. This is where this gospel becomes a bit controversial. If God is loving, why would he ask Abraham to kill his only son? The gospel says that God didn’t let Abraham kill Isaac because he wanted to test his obedience.”
I nod along with his words. God does ask us for obedience. In return for everything He gives us, all He wants in return is our undying devotion. When you take a step back and look at it, it doesn’t seem all too unreasonable. He gave us life, He gave us free will, and all He asks is that we do what He says. Doesn’t that seem easy to give in comparison to all we have?
But my stomach drops. I haven’t been obedient. I haven’t been following what He would want. I try not to let that reminder sour my mood. No, it’s just…Noah and I…but I can’t seem to make heads or tails of my thoughts.
“I think God wanted to see how much Abraham would sacrifice for Him,” Father Matteo continues, coming down to the center of the pews as he delivers his homily. “Sacrifice is something I want to discuss today. How much would we give up for God?”
I gulp audibly and wonder if everyone can see how I’m starting to sweat. Sacrifice isn’t meant to be easy. Sacrifice is meant to be challenging, it’s meant to push us, to show our true loyalty, and to test our resolve. Sacrifice involves giving up the things you want because you know it’s for the best.
But I’ve been selfish. Noah…we’vebeen selfish. Suddenly, I don’t look at our moment yesterday with excitable joy. It’s no longer tender and sweet. It’s dirty—but not in a good way—and sinful. I look back at him and see that he’s as aloof as ever. Is this not affecting him? Is he not freaking out the way I am? How is he so okay with what we’re doing?
But I see the twitch in his jaw, the slight show of interest in his dark eyes, and I desperately want to know what he’s thinking.
“Isn’t that the point of love? Giving up something for the benefit of others? Doing the right thing, even though we know how difficult it is?” Father Matteo asks, his eyes zeroing in on me and my guilt only increasing. He stares at me for a beat. Can he see it written all over my face? Can he see…sinnerpainted across my forehead? Can he sense that I’ve forsaken everything I was raised to believe?
He smiles softly before turning back to the congregation. “Reflect on that. Think to yourself, what would you give up for love?”
I love God. I love that He’s blessed me with my twins and given me a comfortable life. When my father was beating me for my sins and forcing me to pray away my sins, all I could cling to was the fact that God would save me. That God would stop the torture I was experiencing, and He did. I never thought that God was to blame for what I went through. God cared for me and saw me through it. Because of that, I devoted my life to Him. I love Him with every ounce of my being.
I don’t love Noah. I know that for certain. I like Noah…a lot. I’m starting to care for him in a way I never thought possible, but it’s not love. Romantic love between him and I…that would cross a line, wouldn’t it? God could never forgive that. Man shall not lie with another man and marriage and love are meant for man and woman. That leads to the question that Father Matteo asked us today.
What would we sacrifice for God?
“I believe in the Holy Spirit, the holy catholic church, the communion of the saints, the forgiveness of sins, and the resurrection of the body…”
I mumble along because I know every part of mass by heart, but my mind is somewhere else. It’s in a state of extreme turmoil, brewing with all the dangerous thoughts I’ve tried to keep buried. When it’s just Noah and I, it’s so easy to forget about God. He literally fucks God right out of me. But here, in His holy church, it all comes slamming right back.
Mass progresses as usual, and I go about the motions in a monotonous blur. I can sense that Noah glances at me every now and then—I can sense his smoldering stare as if it’s my own—but I can’t look back. God is watching. God is judging. God is vengeful, and I want so deeply to be forgiven.
Once the mass has ended, I hastily jump out of my seat. I don’t think Noah would approach me here—we always try to keep ourselves separate in public—but I can’t risk it. I practically barrel through the campers and counselors, trying to run away from my guilt. I’m not lucky, however, because Father Matteo spots me and stops me just as I’m leaving the church.
“Jarred,” he says, halting me with a gentle hand on my elbow. “Did you like today’s homily?”
“It was…” I gulp, trying to scramble for words that will hide my obvious distress. “It was very enlightening, Father.”
He furrows his brows at my choice of words but quickly schools his face into something more passive and accepting. “What did you think of it?”
“I think you’re right. I think that we have to give up the things we love for God.” I bluster, glancing nervously around at the campers who are ignoring this conversation. Or maybe they’re not. Maybe they can sense the sinner in the Holy Place. They can zero in on—
“Jarred…no,” Father Matteo says, shaking his head as he frowns. “That wasn’t the point—”
“It was an amazing mass, Father,” I rush out, giving him a curt nod and a weak smile. “I look forward to next Sunday.”
“Jarred, wait—”
But I’m already walking away from him with one destination in mind. I know that I was trying to avoid Noah earlier, but I’ve changed my mind. I need to be strong. I need to have courage. I need to do the hard thing and sacrifice what I want and what I love.
I don’t love Noah—I can’t—but…
The way he smiles down at me when I’m on my knees, looking at me like I’m something precious to take care of. The way his fingers walk down my spine and rest gently on my hole after he’s fucked me. The way he curls me into his firm chest, whispering promises and secrets and reassurances and vows deep into the dusk to try and comfort me.
