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I went to Cameron Park on a sunny but chilly afternoon as the sufferings of summer have faded away into the cool netherlands of my memory. Father Jesus P. Cadissimo, the defrocked priest who ministers to the poor as a son of God and a disciple of Jesus, opened the door of his trailer less than a block away from San Felipe Catholic Church. I was on my annual mission to make a contribution to his Christmas fund.

He prepared tea as I took a chair in his frugal abode. Though the Catholic Church no longer recognizes him as a priest after he led a vocal campaign against several pedophile bishops who retaliated by stripping him of his cassock, the church leaves him alone because his good works speak for themselves.

"I read the article about your Catholicism and I was reminded of an aged-old question," he commenced. "Is it better to have loved and been deceived than to have never loved at all? I ask you, my dear friend: 'Is it better to have believed and been deceived than to have never believed at all?"

"What do you know about love, Father?"

"I wasn't always a priest. I entered the seminary later in life. I knew both the good and bad of love. In many ways my amorous misfortunes led to my calling as a priest. Therefore, I can say that it is better to have loved and lost or I wouldn't have chosen this path that has more than fulfilled me."

"Let's hear about those adventures, Father."

"A writer penning soap operas could tell a better story about romantic failures. I've shed those heavy clothes from the past and I bask in the attire of a guayabera, a pair of khakis and sandals. I'm free to save souls and by doing so I free mine. You're the one who hasn't shed the burden of your Catholic millstone. In your life Catholicism cuts both ways."

"On the positive side, it liberated me from falling victim to a Jehovah Witness knocking at my front door and convincing me to follow him or her. It's all a mythology to me. I respect the Jewish history, the beauty of the Bible's prose and poetry, its stories and the life of Jesus Christ, but in terms of my own personal salvation, it's all fiction to me."

 "I understand, but the difference between you and me lies in faith. I don't question because I don't take the Bible literally. It points in a direction that brings meaning to my existence and I follow. I accept that we are all different in our beliefs. I'm not attempting to convince anyone of anything. I simply explain the source of my happiness. I found a breeze wafting through the universe and I flow with it. You have chosen to stride against the river's current."

"I don't do it intentionally, Father, but Catholicism fills you with guilt. From the time you first hear a human voice, which becomes a scream when you start parochial school, is that you were born with sin, that every questionable act is either a venial sin or a mortal sin, that your poor grandmother is burning in purgatory because nobody, with the exception of the Virgin Mother, dies without sin on his or her soul and must spend an interminable period roasting in purgatory until this infernal place purifies you with its fires and that your destiny may be to spend eternity in hell. You go to confession to confess your sins, but who has the guts to reveal that you've been masturbating imagining your mother nude? If that isn't a mortal sin the mind of a child, what is? Then you complicate your existence by receiving Holy Communion with a mortal sin on your soul, which is a mortal sin in itself. You keep committing one mortal sin after another and you're so filled with guilt that you can feel the flames licking at your feet. You grow up thinking that if you're doomed to hell, you might as well get your money's worth and surrender your life to mortal sins."

"I never mention hell to my congregation. I tell them that Jesus tended a flock of a hundred sheep and the one he loved the most was the black one. You talk about your admiration for the teachings of Zen. Jesus was no different than the Buddha and many believe he is a reincarnation of the the Enlightened One. Like most Buddhists, I don't dwell on an afterlife. It is not important because we're all going to walk the same path. With the exception of a few truly evil humans, we will share in the same rewards. If there is no consciousness, we will be liberated from pain and we will reside in a state of perfect peace. I can't speak for others, but I turn to Jesus for guidance. I love, perform acts of kindness and forgive and I do it because Jesus is my light."

"Nobody will ever accuse you, Father, of drinking from a half-empty vessel. I can never escape the belief that I am 99.99% animal and .01% human and that I'm ruled by my instincts. Except for karma, and I have reaped more times that I care to remember what I have sowed, I am not a spiritual person. This world gave birth to me and one day this earth will reclaim me and it will be like I never existed. You will die a good death, Father, because you will not be tortured by guilt, but I fear that as I begin to decline these demons will assail me and my last days will be a nightmare as a result of the guilt that I have carried with me since childhood and have only exacerbated throughout my life. If I have loved ones at my side when I depart, they will be traumatized for the rest of their lives witnessing the terror in my face."

"You exaggerate, my dear friend. You have done much good. You have nothing to fear. The reason we have closets is to keep the skeletons. You don't owe anyone apologies. Live your life. God blessed you with an open mind. Breathe deeply and when you take your last breath, you will go in peace."

Feeling like St. Paul falling from his horse, I was struck by an old prayer from my days as a fervent Catholic who took great pride in reciting an altar boy's Latin responses during the mass. I dropped to my knees and the Act of Contrition, which was once seared into my brain, returned to me more in a verse from the Palms: 

"Oh my God, I am heartily sorry for having offended Thee and I detest all my sins because of Thy just punishments, but most of all because they offend Thee, my God, who art all good. I firmly resolve, with the help of Thy grace, to sin no more and avoid the near occasions of sin. Amen."

The day was not over. In the evening I drank beer with my oldest son as we shared a father-and-son moment watching the Cowboys playing in a manner deserving of a sentence in hell or at least a long stay in purgatory. We free thinkers pay a heavy price for our gift, but it's a worthwhile sum when Jesus and not Trump is your inspiration.