The Lenten season provides us with 40 days to reflect through sacrifice, prayer, and faith. Ever since I can remember I have thought of Lent as my Catholic new year, complete with a resolution. In the past I have given up soda, candy, promised to be nice to my siblings, do something nice for my wife every day. You get the point. All I did was substitute the start of Lent for January 1st. This was my way of renewing my faith? Don’t forget about repentance, Peter!
40 days of some type of sacrifice I can do. But confession is the tough one, true meaningful repentance. Finally, I know in my faith, confession is the flour. It binds our total being for presentation on Easter Sunday to God. As Catholics we are only performing part of Lent if this ingredient is not present.
I hate confession. I think to be fair who doesn’t. Or that might be my way of rationalizing my feeling about the act. Don’t misunderstand me, I can admit I am wrong and do penance. For me, it is going to a Priest and uttering my sins. Out loud.
It is easy to write an article and tell you why you should go as a good Catholic. Give you the theology behind it, back it up with scripture, and then tell you how great you will feel about telling a Priest your sins and being forgiven. Look up confession, you can read a thousand of these.
Jesus used parables because it made His teachings human. Today, I will give you my bare human experience. In hopes that my weaknesses provide strength to you.
It is a grey spring day, light rain falling, Saturday, March 19, 2016 – St. Mary’s Church, Yourtown, USA. I find myself in a small church at a traditional confessional. Three things are playing through my head as I sit in one of the benches, kneeling, and waiting for my turn in the box.
- There is no way I am doing face to face. Me, I like anonymous, dark and with a screen. By the way, this isn’t even my church. In no way do I want the Priest recognizing my voice. Especially for the sins I am about to repent. If he knew me, he would never talk to me again.
- I sit there in shame, guilt, thinking about the sins. Should I tell him that one? It’s fine to think the sin, but repent it out loud? I don’t know if I can. I hope I can. Perhaps I will lob a few softballs first and then the big ones. Cussing, disrespect, those are easy to confess.
- There are a lot more folks here than I thought would be. It is not a DMV wait, but more than I expected. Also, there are a few more young people than I thought. I’m glad I don’t recognize them and visa versa.
It’s my turn. I walk into the darkened booth, kneel down, and nervously await the sliding wooden face panel.
It slides open.
Rote memory takes over immediately. “Forgive me Father, for I have sinned. I don’t remember when I went to confession last. It’s been…years.” Already guilty, first sin out. I wonder what the Priest is thinking.
My mind starts racing expecting the worst. Immediately I start thinking about Yom Kippur and being Jewish. One day, atonement in one day. Fast, attend service, think about your sins, and perform a mitzvah, done. Why couldn’t I be Jewish?
I’m waiting for my reprimand. I could leave. Would I be the first ever to do that?
Obscured by light, Father lifts his right hand and makes the sign of the cross. In a rich quiet baritone voice, “Thank you for being here today, my son. Christ is with us and with a merciful ear we will hear your confession. In the name of the Father, Son, and Holy Spirit. Amen.”
No reprimand. We will hear, wow. A bit disarmed my passive aggressive side takes over. “With all due respect Father, I don’t think Christ or God or Jesus, will forgive me for what I want to repent.” I slump down on the kneeler, head bowed. There are genuine tears welling up. Something is starting to burst within me. Deep inside my chest, I am suddenly sort of glad I am here.
“I am not a judge,” Father assures. “I am here to walk with you, to help you find mercy. Do you wish God’s forgiveness?”
“Yes,” I whisper.
Father wisely says nothing and waits patiently for me to confess.
I do. The words don’t come easy. Some are said more quietly than others. Even while I am speaking these absolute truths, my mind is playing the other side.
Is he judging me? My sins are bad. Are other people confessing the same things about themselves? Are they really forgiven? Even though I have repeated offenses? I am far from feeling good about myself.
Somehow through uttering these sins out loud, sincerely, to this man who is actively listening, I do feel cleaner with a clearer conscience. Father does absolve me and provides some guidance and penance.
Cognitively, I know I have more to do regarding these sins. Sorry, this is New Evangelizers, not reddit. No tawdry tales here. However, I feel like the prodigal son in the gospel. God is welcoming me home with open arms. Forgiven. To be clear, I feel forgiven because I uttered these sins out loud to another human being. The secret of sin is a bit lessened.
I could have said them to myself, apologized to God, I have done that many times! The impact is not the same internally. When you say something out loud acknowledging a wrong, there is a powerful contrition. If the prodigal son had come home to his father and said nonchalantly, “I’m sorry.” I am certain the father would have welcomed him home. But what he did was utter his confession out loud to God and his father, and sought to be treated as a servant.
This is Lent; this is the Jubilee Year of Mercy; enter through that door (or booth), and make speaking your repentance a part of your experience. The power of God’s Lenten rain will go a long way to cleansing you.
Copyright 2016, Peter Serzo
Peter Serzo
Peter Serzo, observer, listener, author, speaker, and blogger. Visit him at Dotirome.com where he shares practical stories on being Catholic and listen to his popular Priest Podcast. The Priest Podcast is an environment where we have an enlightening conversation with those that lead (Not a theology conversation but a conversation on being a Priest/Leader/Human). Peter travels visiting different Catholic Churches satiating his curiosity and desire to spread each parish's uniqueness though his blog and presentations.
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