Literary Blog!

So unfortunatley, I have gotten caught up with final exams and the holidays and was forced to drop the photo snaps project. This is painful for me to admit, because I hate to actually give up on something, but there were greater demands placed on my time. Really, soon I would be working all day at school or actual work, and then come home to homework and at 12:30am realize that I still hadn't taken a picture all day. Hopefully I will undertake this project again when I have more free time.

Also, as soon as I tell people about these things, I tend to jinx them, which is why many of you may be surprised that this blog began this summer and I didn't publicize the link until many months later. I don't like to jinx things.

The main focus for the entry today is an exceprt for Angela's Ashes. I deliberately did not read this book before and during my stay in Limerick because I thought the depressing story could possibly give me misgivings about studying there. Well, I was wrong, this book is amazing and I have regretted my decision ever since. Especially because they had tours based around this book, how cool is that?!

Angela's Ashes is the autobiography of Frank McCourt and his experience growing up in Limerick, Ireland during the Great Depression. It is a very powerful book that made me appreciate all the blessings I have in my life. I wanted to share one of my favorite parts, because, well, because I felt like sharing it.

Background: Frank McCourt grew up in a traditional Irish Catholic household, where they were taught to go make confession to a priest and find out the penance they had to do to earn forgiveness. It's disappointing to see how he seems to know all the traditions of the church, but not the doctrine or scripture behind the teachings of the church. Often the priests are described as hypocritical or uncaring. But this example of McCourt giving confession caught my attention, and I hope that this was an actual instance in his life. He had been out many hours, sent by his mother to look in all the Limerick pubs for his father. He became so hungry, he stole fish and chips from a drunk man who had passed out on the side of the road. His guilty conscience drove him to the church to make confession.

Chapter 7

"Bless me Father, for I have sinned, it's a fortnight since my last confession." I tell him the usual sins and then, I stole fish and chips from a drunken man.
"Why, my child?"
"I was hungry, Father."
"And why were you hungry?"
"There was nothing in my belly, Father."

He says nothing and even though it's dark I know he's shaking his head. "My dear child, why can't you go home and ask your mother for something?"

"Because she sent me out looking for my father in the pubs, Father, and I couldn't find him and she hasn't a scrap in the house because he's drinking the five pounds Grandpa sent from the north for the new baby and she's raging by the fire because I can't find my father."

I wonder if the priest is asleep because he's been very quiet till he says,"My child, I sit here. I hear the sins of the poor. I assign the penance. I bestow absolution. I should be on my knees washing their feet. Do you understand me, my child?"

I tell him I do, but I don't.

"Go home, child. Pray for me."