Hell is the Absence of a Washroom

Father Clement was about to encounter a serious problem that would dampen his mood on what should have been a joyous and festive occasion. Humming to himself the soothing lyrics of 'all is calm, all is bright' Clement had set off on the familiar pathway that led from the church overlooking the central plaza to the secluded and modest abode in which he resided on the outskirts of town. He had just delivered Midnight Mass and was hoping for a few hours of quiet reflection and prayer before heading back to church at dawn. For the entirety of his adult life he had lived in the picturesque village of Röcken and been content to find his calling as a priest to the town's small but devout following. It was a quiet and humble life for the thirty-five-year-old, but one that they gave him a strong inward sense of fulfillment and purpose, particularly at this time of year.

Delivering Mass was his favorite duty as town priest, and every year at Christmas he gave a jubilant service honoring the birth of his Lord and Savior. The feeling Clement experienced was one of exaltation, and he agreed with the poignant words of Saint Leonard that Mass provides a buttress which prevents the world from falling into an abyss. One of his favorite sayings was the wisdom of Saint John Vianney, which asserted that if God had a more precious gift for humanity than that of Mass, he would have provided it already. It is hard to imagine how the end of war, poverty, famine, or disease would be able to hold a candle to the infinite glory of celebrating divine greatness.

Despite the festive harmony of the scene, Father Clement would soon be beset upon by a grave complication that would challenge his faith, and take him to the very limits of his being. He was walking along humming merrily and had just reached his favorite refrain of 'Christ, Christ, the Savior is born' when he was suddenly stricken by an intense contraction and rumbling in his gut. The sign was brief but unmistakable, and announced the imminent arrival of a gastrointestinal need that the Father was not in an adequate position to satisfy.

As his stomach once again signaled its rebellion Clement gently brought his palm up to his face in a wordless act of self-flagellation. He had chosen to use the molding bread for sacrament, which at the time had seemed like a preferable option to going without the body of Christ on such a special night. Stuck halfway between the centre of town and his home he was about to face the consequences of that decision.

His stomach rumbled even louder. A cold sweat appeared on his brow. A feeling of dread set in. It is a crisis of faith that everyone is tested with at some point in their lives, and a time in which an individual wishes that they could be provided with divine guidance in order to answer the most fundamental of existential questions: Should the Father try to hold it in, or make a mad dash for the closest area of refuge? The decision needed to be made soon as his belly was fit to burst.

The Book of Deuteronomy says that God often walks with us and takes our hand as a father would to his child. It is the belief of Pope Francis that this beautiful but mysterious consolation often happens at Christmastime when God comes to meet his creation. Father Clement was about to experience this divine act of grace firsthand. As he glanced up from his wayward stomach to the dark path in front of him, the light of the stars flashed in his eyes, and illuminated his path to salvation. In the distance he could just make out a glint of dazzling white paint and intricate design adorning the holy refuge – the town outhouse. There it was in all its majesty, revered by town farmers, who made the pilgrimage daily during the harvest season.

As an inherent part of the job description Father Clement had always set the bar for miracles quite low and this revelation in his time of need could be seen as nothing else. He no longer felt alone and mouthed words of gratitude to the sky as he bounded stride after stride towards the last place he figured to spend the opening hours of the Lord's birthday. In his haste Clement threw open the door of the outhouse and slammed it shut behind him without taking heed of the admonition hanging ominously above the entryway.