Questions for the Confession Booth

What do the church janitors whisper when they clean the confession booths?

Do they ever find strangers’ forgotten items? A tube of chapstick slipped from a pocket. A wad of tissue crumpled and warm. A carving of two lover’s initials. The wood stained from hundreds of hands and asses. Something sticky in the corner. 

They must say something, even if it’s just muttered under their breath—about their low wages, or long hours, the sore feet and cracked hands, the budget cuts on good cleaning products, or that pesky trash can. 

Surely, when the church is dark, and the parish has gone home for the evening, the priest will say his good nights as he always does, the evening staff tipping their heads in silence. He is slipping away with God, out for a beer at their favourite haunt. You know, the one the sisters like to complain about. 

But do the janitors say anything about this quiet task?

How does it feel to be at the helm of the empty house?

The key in their hands. 

Is there power in a bottle of Windex?

The janitors start with washing the doors, the high touchpoints, and the fingerprinted glass. Then they move on to dusting, sweeping and more wiping, making note of where future repairs will be required. Then it’s time for a quick polish to make the wood shine under the candlelight and dance with the stained glass. They end with a final review, their careful eyes checking every corner in case of a missed spot or forgotten mark.

Do their wrists ache from the effort? Do they hum a small tune?

Pride swells with the smell of cleaner. The odour wafts like incense, cleansing the church of its sins.

I think there’s more holiness in the bearer who swings the mop than He who swings the Word. At least that man of the cloth actually uses the cloth. The actions of their liturgy are visible every night—rumours abound of a great miracle. The priest is one of the jealous kind.

There’s a lot of dirty work happening out there in the world. The garbage cans are always emptied by dawn, ashtrays cleaned, and sidewalks swept. We hardly notice it. Preferring to think of other topics. A willful ignorance.

But here I am asking the question. Curious to know the answer. 

What do the church janitors whisper when they clean the confession booths?

Is it a sort of prayer?

Do you enjoy the company?