Renegade Priest deals with a man during confession

by Jon Rappoport

November 10, 2021

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Church members tended to avoid Father John J O’Connor. He was known to be thorny, even confrontational. So it was with some trepidation that Paul Smith, who was told his regular confessor was out with the flu, approached the box when he saw Father John standing by it.

Inside, Father John said, “So why are you here today?”

To make confession.

I know that. But why?

My son, who is 11, doesn’t want to go school.


He doesn’t want to take the needle in his arm. He doesn’t like listening to the teacher talking about transgenderism. He doesn’t like the teacher calling white students racists.

And you?

I don’t like all that, either. But I don’t know what to do. My sister thinks I may have a mental health issue. She wants me to see a psychiatrist.

Do you want to?

I don’t know.

What would the diagnosis be?

I have no idea.

Depression? Bipolar? Oppositional Defiance Disorder?

I don’t know.

You don’t know what to do with your son. Does that mean you have a mental problem?


So you’re on the fence.


What do you want me to do about that?

Take my confession and tell me how to obtain absolution.

If I do, will your situation change?

I hope so.


I’ll feel relieved.


Because you accept my confession.

What happens if you take your son out of the school for good?

I’d have to find him another school. And in the neighborhood, and at work, the word would get out.

People would know you’re against the policies of the school.

Yes. I don’t want to make waves. My boss might see me as some kind of radical.

What’s your boss’s position on the issues your son is facing in school?

My boss has a relative who sits on the school board. He goes along to get along.

Would he fire you?

I suppose that’s possible. He would certainly pass me over for a promotion.

So you see this as a squeeze play.

Well, yes. There are forces pressing on me from different directions.

What does your wife think?

She wants me to take our boy out of school.

Is she adamant?

I would say so, yes.

Any other family involved?

My brother. He’s all for the vaccine.

Do you live in fear?


Do you live in fear?

No. I mean I have certain fears at times, but I maintain my equilibrium.

Your equilibrium. What about your faith?

What do you mean?

In what do you invest your faith?

Jesus Christ, God, the Church.

And what does that faith do for you?

I don’t understand.

What return are you getting for your investment?

A sense of order, of peace.

In other words, you can live your life as you ordinarily would, but with the added bonus of a feeling of security.

My faith is deeper than that.


I feel I know there is a life after this one.

And what is your place in that next life?

Hopefully, as a soul who is saved, in Heaven.

Meanwhile, until then, back on Earth, what else does your faith do for you, besides offering a sense of peace?

What do you mean?

Is there anything else you derive from faith?

I rely on the Church. It gives me hope.

Hope, for instance, that all is not lost for humankind?


Would you say, all in all, that you’re deriving great benefit from your faith?

Of course.

What does your faith require from you?


Aside from reaping benefits, what should you give?

I give to the Church. I make yearly donations.

And that’s it?

Are you saying I should give more?

I’m just asking questions. Does your faith empower you?

I…I’m not sure. How would it?

That’s my next question.

I don’t know. I’ve never sought power. Father, where is this going?

I don’t know. I want to find out. Does your faith suggest to you that you should take action?

What kind of action?

Well, over there, you have a problem. Your son, his school. Over here, you have your faith. Is there a bridge between the two? A bridge you should be crossing?

Oh. Well, I don’t know.

When it comes to this problem with your son and his school, what do you think you should do as a man, as a father?

That’s the thing. I’m not sure.

In other words, you’re afraid.

Well…I’ve prayed to God, asking for advice, but I haven’t gotten an answer.

Why do you think He hasn’t answered you?

I don’t know.

Is it possible He wants to see you take some action on your own, as a man, before He gets back to you?

Is that the Church’s position?

I doubt it. Perhaps it once was. It’s hard to say. We’re just sitting here talking. You and I. Two men.

And when you look at me, Father, what do you see?

I see what you see when you look at yourself.

But I don’t know what to think about myself.

I believe you do.


Yes. I believe you’re looking for cover. Refuge. A way out. An escape hatch. You want to use the Church as a crutch.

But in a way, that’s what the Church is, isn’t it? Not a fake crutch, a real one. Something ultimate to lean on. Because the Church is connected to God.

So then, you can postpone taking action on your son’s behalf. You can rely on us. You don’t have to stand up against evil and show some sign of bravery on your own. You can let the Church excuse you. That doesn’t add up for me.

Maybe I should pray deeper and with more conviction, give myself over totally to God’s Will.

Why haven’t you?

It’s a big step.

It seems as if you’re saying everything is a big step, and all the steps are just out of your reach. I don’t see that as God’s problem or the Church’s. I see it as your problem.

You’re not speaking on behalf of the Church, Father. I can tell.

Very few people in the Church listen to anything I have to say. Anyway, when I sit here talking to you, I see a blank spot in you. It’s a nice blank spot, a friendly blank spot, an earnest blank spot. I think you cultivate that spot in yourself. You tend it like a garden. It makes you impervious. At least you think it does, until something happens to you—or in this case, to your son. Then you come here looking for an out. You want absolution. You need courage, but you want an excuse to do nothing.

Maybe you’re right, Father.

I think you know I’m right.

Then what should I do?

Find a way INTO this mess with your son, not out of it. Don’t think of your faith as the end of something, but as a start. Act on it. Face the situation. Be brave.


There is no how. Even if you turn your life over to God, you still have to DO something.

He can’t do it for me if I believe in Him?

He can do anything He wants to. What are you going to do?

I’m just a man.

Just? God gave you free will. Do you think He offered that gift so you could surrender it?

Will you take my confession, Father?

I’ve been taking it with every word you speak. But I won’t give you a way out.

Why not?

Because you’re playing dumb. If that’s what God wants you to do, then I’ve totally misunderstood what His Church is supposed to stand for.

I’m seeking a State of Grace.

Really? That is something no human can offer or exercise control over.

Sinners come to the Church. They want forgiveness.

You think it’s that simple? If there is a boot stamping on the face of humanity, and a man does NOTHING about it, we in the Church are supposed to exonerate that man AND claim we are acting in God’s name? In Christ’s name, who sacrificed Himself on the Cross? Well, here is one priest who won’t do that. And by the way, I know of several Protestant churches that stayed open during the lockdowns. They defied the authorities. But they are full of pride for simply staying open. For what purpose did they conduct services on Sundays? Did the pastors demand that their congregations go out into the streets and protest the lockdowns? Did the pastors tell their congregations to keep their businesses open no matter what? No.

You’re going too far, Father. You’re asking too much.

That’s my job. How far did the first Christians go in defending their faith against the tyrannical leaders of their day? For what purpose did they risk their lives? So you could live in comfort and endlessly debate with yourself the merits of taking your son out of school? So you could conveniently forget what courage is? So you could find a way to live in a moral vacuum?

Now wait a minute—

I’m one of those “first Christians.” The stakes then and the stakes now are exactly the same. I try to live as if I’ve just heard Jesus preach in person. As if I were inspired to carry my Faith in Him against all attempts to silence and neuter it.

Obviously, I don’t live up to your standard.

No, you don’t live up to your own. And your solution is to pretend you don’t know what that standard is. So you come here with a begging bowl. You want us to certify your self-trickery. You want us to absolve you from concealing everything you’re concealing from yourself. I don’t recall Jesus ever saying His Revelations involved the individual eradicating his own conscience. Through lockdowns and mandates, people steal your right to earn your daily bread. People try to steal your son’s mind. And you claim you don’t know what to do about it. And now you want to blame me because I won’t put a salve on your wound.

Goodbye, Father. I have to go.

Too bad. I was just getting started…

(To read about Jon’s mega-collection, The Matrix Revealed, click here.)

Jon Rappoport

The author of three explosive collections, THE MATRIX REVEALED, EXIT FROM THE MATRIX, and POWER OUTSIDE THE MATRIX, Jon was a candidate for a US Congressional seat in the 29th District of California. He maintains a consulting practice for private clients, the purpose of which is the expansion of personal creative power. Nominated for a Pulitzer Prize, he has worked as an investigative reporter for 30 years, writing articles on politics, medicine, and health for CBS Healthwatch, LA Weekly, Spin Magazine, Stern, and other newspapers and magazines in the US and Europe. Jon has delivered lectures and seminars on global politics, health, logic, and creative power to audiences around the world. You can sign up for his free NoMoreFakeNews emails here or his free OutsideTheRealityMachine emails here.

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