Redemption

"I dare you to!" she whispers to me. Being "dared to" confess is unusual motivation to seek redemption, but this is my last day in Paris, and how often does one frequent Notre Dame?
"Look! It says you can confess in English." she whispers again. Despite the hushed din of the swarm of tourists circling the church, her voice is remarkably, and eerily, clear. It seems like God is making this far too convenient - here I am in Notre Dame, a devout Catholic is rising from the seat in the Confessional, the Priest speaks English...
"Why not?"
The "confessional" is an enclosed alcove of the Cathedral cordoned off by a glass wall with a glass door in the center.
I indicate to the Priest that I am prefer to speak English. His English is bad he says, and so if I am able to, he would rather do this in French. Doing it in French would just add to the cultural experience of it all, so I agree.
"Je suis homosexual", I begin.
He understands he says. He then tells me that, unless I have a vocation (it was hard to understand this concept in French at first) in which I must remain celebate, then it is not sinful to love another man, but I must be faithful to one man only. "Does that mean I should marry?" I ask. He tells me that marriage is a sacrament and to marry another man is a sin. He implores me to find love and to be faithful. He then blesses me and sets me free, back into the circling mass of tourists touring the medieval Cathedral.
I am surprised by what I have been told in confession. I have been told that the church and God accept me for who I am, and that there is some discrepancy between the official word of the church and the practicing word of the church. Do not believe everything you hear, but believe everything you experience.
I leave Notre Dame feeling surprised, enlightened, content, and, to be honest, a little bit divine.
I have been redeemed. And so has the Catholic church.