My First Life

About the Book

The incredible story of a boy who believed in the Church and wholeheartedly embraced its rigorous discipline in order to become a priest. After reaching his dream, during the stormy years of the post-Vatican II, he was crushed by the system, which did not allow any original thinking outside of the official parameters.

"Wow! I must say that I truly enjoyed the read. You should be proud of what you have achieved here; it is a masterpiece The story is fascinating and your writing style is impeccable. I found myself sympathizing completely with Benedict. I could feel his innate sadness at not having a companion, joy when he found Hercules again, and sadness when he heard of his tragic death. Elation when he met Little Grace, as she was a true confidante to him. Then again his sadness when he lost her too.

It seemed there was an undercurrent of sadness throughout the book, almost a dark cloud hanging over him his whole life. He was never close to his parents or brother, and didn't seem to have anyone to share things or be himself with, apart from brief respites when he had Hercules and Little Grace in his life. His life was such a roller coaster of ups and downs! What shocked me most was the utter beaurocracy within the walls of the Catholic Church; how they maneuvered him out against his will! It is incredible the egos that existed among some of those Provincials and Directors, who would stop at nothing to get what they wanted (as you say in the book no matter how much blood had to be spilt).

I have read over 60 books in my capacity as editor/proofreader, and your definitely ranks in the top 3!"

Jessica Keet

About the Author

Dario Lisiero holds degrees in Humanities (History, Religion, and Languages). He took some courses of Marxism and Economics at Oxford University. In his free time, he traveled extensively through Europe and Latin America. Among his jobs, he is proud of his experience as Aid in a Psychiatric Hospital.

Excerpts

The small mountain boy, who had never rode an engine-powered vehicle or even left his village in all his childhood, was about to embark on a luxury cruise liner across the Atlantic Ocean. Not even in his wildest dreams had Benedict considered this eventuality; it was well beyond his league or his family's means.

He could not believe his eyes when he saw a maritime port for the first time. The huge amount of vessels coming and going, with their characteristic sound piercing heart and soul was extraordinary. The smell of salty water in the air, the loud screaming and shouting of merchants, seamen, and the swarming of people speaking strange languages and dressed in unfamiliar ways reminded him of adventures and pirate stories.

Everything was absolutely new to his eyes and ears, everything stimulated his fantasy, recreating the reality around him with dreamlike connotations, like a child unable to grasp the essence and focusing only on appealing details, which eventually will last a lifetime.

Overwhelmed by this phantasmagoric world whirling in his head, he was suddenly brought back to reality by his companion, Hercules, telling him to move and board the ship.

Hercules, as senior partner in that relationship, due to his age and worldly knowledge, was in charge of all the technical details. Anointed leader by the superiors he dealt with authorities, made decisions, and assumed responsibilities.

Both of them, after checking in went to their cabin. There were four beds, two on one side, one on the top of the other, and two on the opposite side. It was difficult to move inside because of the many suitcases, all new, all black, with empty nametags, lying on the floor. Since the trunks with personal belongings were sent to a special cargo compartment, Benedict assumed those suitcases belonged to the occupants of the other bunk beds. So he did not ask any questions and waited for the other two passengers to show up and take care of their suitcases.

The liner was supposed to leave the harbor at four p.m. It was almost four fifteen, but there was no sign of an imminent departure. In the meantime, Hercules was very busy talking to several people.

Suddenly he heard his name called across the loudspeakers, summoning him to the port authorities, where customs agents were waiting.

Before leaving, he advised Benedict to put his own name on three of the cases, Hercules' name on the other three, and arranged all of them under the bunk beds. As time passed inexorably, a repeated announcement notified passengers that the ship could not leave because of a customs problem. All of a sudden, several agents burst into the cabin and without saying a word searched it thoroughly and then left.

Finally, after an hour-and-a-half's delay, the luxury liner sent out its piercing signal and, hauled by two motorboats, slowly exited the harbor under a rain of confetti and the cheering of thousands of well-wishers, and started the navigation on its own power.

Benedict, still intrigued by the previous commotion, asked Hercules what had happened. Only then did his companion provide him with an explanation. Those suitcases contained new accordions destined for a benefactor living in Santos, Brazil. Their religious superiors wanted to reward him because of his services to the order.

Without declaring them and virtually smuggling them as personal effects, Hercules was expected to take them to Santos and deliver them personally to the above-mentioned individual.

This was totally shocking to Benedict, who never imagined a religious organization would bypass the law with the intent of rewarding a benefactor.

The real world was about to emerge from the artificial bubble in which he had lived since entering boarding school. Pious intentions and human frailties formed an unholy alliance, making the spiritual look mundane and the mundane sacred.

As soon as the ship reached the open sea an unusual storm broke out. It was dinner time. The passengers who could reach the dining room had a hard time holding down their plates on the table. The ones who were lucky enough to eat something could not retain the food in their stomachs because of the violent movements of the vessel. Benedict and his friend quickly learned what it meant to feel sea sick.

The whole experience was so unpleasant they never forgot their baptism at sea. Lying on their beds they implored all the saints in heaven, begging them to stop their urge to vomit, and to calm the tempestuous waters. But apparently nobody was listening to their desperate pleas. God Neptune seemed to have let loose all the furies of the underworld. All night the poor liner was tossed about like a nutshell by the giant waves. In the morning, as if by miracle, the sea turned calm and peaceful, and the passengers learnt from the captain's bulletin that they had experienced one of the worst storms of the decade causing massive damage in the beautiful port they had just left.

With weariness and fatigue in their eyes, they forced themselves into the religious routine with their Mass and meditation at daybreak and breakfast, and a tour to the floating facilities accompanied by the chaplain. He was very pleased to see them helping with the morning liturgy, and revealed that many other religious people on board would never show up for any function in the small chapel.

This was another shock for Benedict; he naively believed that all the clerics would fulfill their obligations and would behave according to their habit, whether they were living within the walls of the convent or not. Later on, he found out that some priests would remove their cassock and take part in dances and drink immoderately, making a spectacle of themselves.

Some devout catholic women would find that behavior quite offensive and would not hesitate to gossip, threatening those scandalous subjects to provide the Vatican with their names. In those days for clerics to temporarily relinquish their vestments and dance provocatively with young females was not only unheard of but also appalling.

This was not all. The conversations with the cabin mate, a missionary priest with a doctorate in Philosophy, revealed some bizarre aspects that Benedict could never imagine possible. Stationed in the Amazon jungle of Brazil, the missionary would carry a gun day and night for protection against outlaws, unscrupulous traders, and drifters of any kind. He showed with pride his shiny, new pistol and its ammunition, confessing that he would not vacillate to use it.

Puzzled, Benedict asked himself if it was feasible with such an education to end up like that, but he could not stumble on any reasonable answer. Apparently, nobody ever mentioned that harsh reality during his training years. Only life would teach him the real lessons. The mental stability he had known before was starting to shake and roll like the vessel he was in, and his entire ideological world with it. Where was the terra ferma he was used to?

The following day the colossal liner docked at Barcelona harbor. The weather was splendid and the few hours on firm soil brought relief to the weary travelers. Benedict, in the cheerful company of Hercules, quickly forgot his physical and psychological insecurity and went back to his normal self. How rapidly young people can recover from sudden malaise!

Together with other passengers, they toured the industria