Love After Heaven

27 Wiles of the devil?

Being sexually attracted to a woman was an occupational hazard for Catholic priests. A man did not lose his libido when he was ordained. Many are called, but few are chosen, went the rationalization of priests who, in typical religious jargon, "go astray."

Father Romy vaguely remembered that lesson he must have learned in the seminary about how to counteract "the wiles of the devil." Or perhaps he just read it in a book. He had to pray before sleeping, so he would not have wet dreams. He had to have a rosary handy when his sexual organ started to react to the physical presence of a woman. Or a man.

Routinely, he had to eat papaya at every meal.

Why papaya? Because it was called "the fruit of the angels" by Christopher Columbus. Because it was touted as a miracle fruit, able to prevent heart attacks, strokes, macular degeneration, rheumatoid arthritis, and even prostrate cancer. That part about the prostate was important, Father Romy remembered from reading a book about aging males. A celibate did not have the natural immunity against prostate cancer that a sexually active man had. Whether urban legend or medical fact, orgasm was supposed to keep the prostate active, making it able to kill any cancer cells that might be lurking in it. By implication – although Father Romy was intelligent enough to know that the logic was dubious – papaya deadened the sexual urge.

Father Romy went to the kitchen and got himself a papaya. He sliced it, scooped out the seeds, and downed the whole thing in twenty seconds flat. He also silently chanted a prayer, echoing Jesus berating the devil in the desert. "Away from me, Satan!"

If Julie were Satan, however, Father Romy thought, she was about as different from that fire-breathing monster as anyone could be. She smelled like an angel, not a fallen one, but a real angel, perhaps his guardian angel. Of course, Father Romy had to smile at himself. He didn't really know how an angel smelled.

Or did he? Suddenly, without warning, Father Romy seemed to see before him an angel or what looked like an angel. It was some person in white waving a light at his face. There was a tunnel of some kind, a very dark tunnel. Father Romy shuddered. I must be losing my mind, he whispered.

When he shook his head to get rid of the vision or whatever it was, Father Romy saw that he was alone in the kitchen, with what was left of the papaya still in his hand. He got another papaya and sliced it open, threw the seeds out, and almost choked himself with it.

He saw himself in a mirror in the kitchen, and he had to laugh. His mouth was overflowing with papaya. His face was distorted almost comically. He still had his collar on. He was a priest, a priest forever. Julie or no Julie, he was going to be faithful to his vow of celibacy.

But his sexual organ seemed not to share his resolve. Father Romy decided that, even if he had not given in to temptation, he should avail of the sacrament of reconciliation. He went to the church to line up at the confessional.