I committed the end of my master’s study and my thesis to the Sacrament of Reconciliation. At the time it felt like throwing my pearls before swine, since next to Anointing, Confession – more formally the Sacrament of Penance and Reconciliation – is the most ignored of the seven sacraments.
Though I’ve been a liturgist by affinity and truing for much of my life, it was moral theology rather than liturgical students that drew me to this topic. During a class discussion regarding the current preference in much moral theology to understand sin as “missing the mark” rather than as one of many bad acts listed on a check-off list of sins, I asked if the Sacrament of Reconciliation has caught up with this understanding. Prof. Gula paused for a moment and answered “no”.
Admittedly, my research and writing didn’t stay long in the field of moral theology. My historical research and my practical experience led me to focus on the role of community in the sacrament. This communal aspect has been almost entirely lost and must be reclaimed if the Sacrament of Reconciliation is to have a future in the lives of Catholics.
We are social beings. It is rare that our sinfulness stays between us and God. Admitting our sins to a member of our community and expressing contrirition addresses the social aspect of both sin and spirituality, as does the mediation of forgiveness through another person.
Individualism, rampant in our culture and incompatible with Catholicism and many other religious traditions, makes the argument for reconciliation with the community a tough sell. In the earliest years of the Church, the primary goal or effect of Penance was reconciliation with the community (which by definition was the local Chuch, which implied reconciliation with God because the Church was Christ’s body on earth).
The move away from public penance was done for all the right reasons – to encourage more frequent practice and to foster a relationship between a penitent and their confessor-cum-spiritual advisor. More than 1000 years later we have confused privacy with anonymity, and have made the ability to offer absolution, not counsel, the only criteria for hearing confessions.
I want to offer as an example my own practice of confession, not because it is normative but because it may be instructive. I go to confession a few times a year at either of the two Jesuit institutions where I work. I rarely meet with the priests with whom I am friendliest, but with those whom I know moderately well. They know my role in the community. They can place my confessed sins on the wider matrix of my experience and attempt to understand how that affects me.
I don’t go to confession looking for extended conversation. Usually, brief counsel is offered, and this is valuable to me. My confessors can understand how my sin affects my work and relationships. When they offer absolution, I know that they are truly offering it on behalf of the community.
My situation is unique, and that is a challenge to the Church. Parish, work and neighborhood do not overlap for Catholics the way they did 75 years ago. The Church’s ministers must experiment with ways to connect the Sacrament of Penance and Reconciliation to the web of relationships we all exist in.
Additionally, the faithful should seek out experiences that connect their practice of confession with the life of the Church.We can complain all day about how our parish’s confession schedule conflicts with XYZ, or “this one time I had a horrible experience in confession” (believe me, I have one of those stories too. It was really, really bad), but ultimately we have to get over it, and maybe even get creative.
Sacraments always offer grace. Sometimes we take this for granted. We fail to analyze and tend to the experience of the faithful because we know that God comes to us in the sacraments no matter how messy our sacramental practice is. I try to think of this another way: we are privileged to know God in this way, and those of us in ministry are particularly privileged to shape the experience of encountering God through the sacraments. It is the responsibility of all the faithful, not just ministers, to prepare ourselves and our people to celebrate, together.
What is your experience of confession? How would you enhance the practice of the Sacrament?
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Photo: Detail from Venezuelan confessional By Wilfredor (Own work) [CC0], via Wikimedia Commons
I read this earlier and then Simcha Fisher’s column at the National Catholic register. I wish confession was more like your experience. My parish has 45 minutes on Saturday afternoon and then by appointment. I usually go to another parish that has confession Saturday morning at 11 for an hour. I miss having that brief advice, but not all priests do that.
I haven’t read the NCR piece yet, I’ll have to check it out. Many parishes have altered their schedule due to lack of demand, and that has in turn decreased turn out. It’s a tough situation for your average parish.
I would love to have an experience with a few words of counsel, as you say–I have really been struggling to accept the idea that absolution is the point, not counsel, and I’ve gone looking for spiritual direction instead. But I think it would be so valuable. But then, you do have to have a confessor who is capable, willing, and who knows something about you–and it’s tough to get those factors to line up, I think.
Each year I show my catechism class that in the Gospels, Jesus forgave sin only through a personal, physical encounter with him. It wasn’t for Jesus’ benefit, but for the sinner. And how humbling was it for the Prodigal Son to confess his sins to his very own father, who already knew them anyway? So I always confess face to face to a priest who knows me- and minimize the false consolations of retained pride and anonymity.
I love this explanation! I always confess face to face too, but my explanation was usually a simple “Go big or go home” 🙂
Thanks for commenting, Kathleen, you always bring a great perspective. I’m sorry you haven’t found the fit you’re looking for in confession.
When I read your comment a thought came to my mind – maybe your confessor(s) don’t know that you’d like counsel? There are probably lots of people with whom they meet who want the “quickie absolution” and whose eyes glaze over if the priest starts talking. Is there a delicate way to indicate you are open to their wisdom? I’m not sure, but it’s worth a thought.
Oops, I was replying to the OP.
Margaret, thank you for this post. What you have said here is so well put, I will share this post – such wisdom. What I really love is how you said about “getting over it,” and “being creative.” Amen, my friend.
I am very blessed that I have a good confessor, not my pastor. He is a good confessor, but this is one of those modern life/get creative things, because me seeing him for confession is not practical in terms of time. Did I envision my solution as creative? No! It was a way to get to confession in a more regular fashion. The result has been the opening of my heart… although there has been a long way to go. His application of penance is nothing short of brilliant, and life changing most of the time, all through simple prayer and actions.
Honestly, I never had a terrible confession, such as one in which I got scolded, which I know that many have experienced. I have had many dry and terrible ones, in which I wonder if the priest is even listening.
And I can think of so many times when I thought, “I don’t need that!” Who does not need grace?
To enhance confession… good question, I will have to ponder that one. But thanks for this post!
Thanks for your comment, and for sharing. I think “getting over it” is a choice many of us have to make in many areas of our religious life. If we looked for excuses not to do things, we’d find plenty! But if we decide that our participation is important to us, we have to ditch the excuses. I’m glad you have a good confessor, but I suspect you are like me – someone who’s around priests more often than the average Catholic is!