Go and Sin No More

Of all the practices of my faith, the one I dread is going to Confession. When I go, it is like pushing myself to get up and exercise when I am out of shape. After doing an examination of conscience, I try not to think too much about the fact I am going so that I don't persuade myself otherwise until my shoes are clapping up the sidewalk to the church door between the 3:00 and 4:00 hour on a Saturday afternoon. A line of penitents is already ahead of me, waiting, and I take my place at the end of the line.

The waiting is part penance itself. It is what I imagine purgatory must be like, seeing yonder into paradise and yearning for God’s love and mercy as He holds out a white garment for you to put on; but when you look down at yourself, you see crimson and dirt and tares all over your clothes and you can’t wait to be rid of them so you can put on the new clothes and enter paradise. You can’t wait to get rid of your sins. You practice what you will say, you whisper Our Fathers and Hail Marys as you watch as the others go in, come out, kneel down and pray.

The light at the top of the door is green. It is my turn. Once inside the confessional, I shut the door and I am surprised to be submerged in total darkness, waiting for the priest to finish with the other penitent and then come over to my side. I wait in the blackness, suddenly feeling my heart pounding and naked as though God were looking straight into my soul. It is just me and Him. I am aware of myself breathing.

A muted glow suddenly appears, lighting up the grid between us. The priest has come to my side. I can’t see the priest and he can’t see me, which reminds me that it is to Christ that I am asking forgiveness of my sins, and I keep kneeling there. “Bless me Father, for I have sinned. It has been ... since my last confession.”

Catholic social activist and writer Dorothy Day put it plainly: “‘I have sinned. These are my sins.’ That is all you are supposed to tell; not the sins of others, or your own virtues, but only your ugly, gray, drab, monotonous sins.”

She says: “Going to confession is hard - hard when you have sins to confess, hard when you haven’t, and you rack your brain for even the beginnings of sins against charity, chastity, sins of detraction, sloth or gluttony. You do not want to make too much of your constant imperfections and venial sins, but you want to drag them out to the light of day as the first step in getting rid of them. The just man falls seven times daily.” (from the book The Long Loneliness, 9-10.)

Even the Pope goes to confession, daily. In my better years, I have made monthly confession a habit, like taking my car in for regular maintenance instead of waiting until serious problems occur. In my worse years, I have not made it a habit until I have some bigger transgression on my soul and then there is major work to be done and as soon as possible if I want to be in full communion with my brothers and sisters as well as with Christ. It's so easy to forget that everything I do affects all the members of the body, for ill or for good. 

Acknowledging one’s sins is a longstanding tradition. From the Old Testament, “Be not ashamed to acknowledge your guilt, but of your ignorance rather be ashamed” (Sir. 4:26).

In the early church, “Many of those who had become believers came forward and openly acknowledged their former practices” (Acts 19:18; more examples in Jn. 4:17, Lk. 5:8, Mk. 5:33).

“If we acknowledge our sins, he is faithful and just and will forgive our sins and cleanse us from every wrongdoing” (1 Jn. 1:9).

After I've told my sins, I hear a gentle voice giving me spiritual counsel; and sorrow, contrition and overwhelming peace invade my heart. I want to be better and I know God's grace can help me. In Dante’s Divine Comedy, there is a metaphor of St. Peter, or a priest, holding two symbolic keys: one that unlocks the gate of God’s mercy to us, while the other is able to twist out the root cause of sin from our hearts and enlighten the mind. I am aware of both happening in the confessional.

After giving me a penance, the priest says, “Now make an act of contrition.”

When it’s all done, I listen intently for absolution as the priest says, “God, the Father of mercies, through the death and resurrection of his Son has reconciled the world to himself and sent the Holy Spirit among us for the forgiveness of sins; through the ministry of the Church may God give you pardon and peace, and I absolve you from your sins in the name of the Father, and of the Son, and of the Holy Spirit. Amen.”

I step out into the light and am free! Sometimes I come out of the confessional with a broad smile, other times with tears of relief, always with grace abounding. “As long as I kept silent, my bones wasted away; I groaned all the day. For day and night your hand was heavy upon me; my strength withered as in dry summer heat. Then I declared my sin to you; my guilt I did not hide. I said, ‘I confess my faults to the Lord,’ and you took away the guilt of my sin.’” (Ps. 32:3-4).

So there you have it. I love the Sacrament of Reconciliation. I love the privilege of being Catholic. But actually going to Confession, owning up to my sins, swallowing my pride, and making a monthly habit of it, will be a struggle of the will as long as I continue to need it.

Choose One Word

The year of 2014 dwindles to a close. Only two more days and we will bring in the New Year with music, dancing and staying up way too late! And then the day after, I will celebrate my birthday, which means it’s DOUBLY a new year for me. But before these events happen, I want to share something with you – it’s my word for 2015 – and then I encourage you to find your own word. Or, as my sister-in-law says, let the word choose you. It could be a word summing up your hopes for the New Year or your attitude for the New Year, or any word that paves the path for the year ahead.

Last year, a friend suggested my word be ROOTED, which was her wish for me. This was very appropriate because of how unsettled I felt at that juncture of my life. From an external point of view, however, it didn’t appear that the word “rooted” worked any magic in my life in 2014 – in fact, just the opposite. I made two extensive road trips over the summer, including a drastic move across the country. “Uprooted” would seem more accurate for what happened, yet internally, something did change in me. I have become more rooted in self-knowledge, rooted in knowing who I am and what I want and what I will give for it, and more rooted in God, who I know is with me wherever I go.

And so I have found myself in Washington, feeling called like Abram to go out to a place that God would show me. The transition hasn’t been easy. Let’s just say there have been a few tumbles down the mountainside, but the Lord has caught me each time. And this Advent, I found myself on a spiritual journey to the hill country with Mary to visit her cousin Elizabeth, who was with child. 

Certainly Mary was also in a state of uncertainty and questions as she pondered what would become of her life. Would Joseph divorce her for conceiving this child from God? What would it mean to be the mother of the Messiah? But even so, her heart beat a little faster and flooded with love when she thought about the babe growing inside her. When Elizabeth saw Mary’s faith, she exclaimed, “Blessed are you who believed that what was spoken to you by the Lord would be fulfilled” (Luke 1:45).  

My word for 2015 is PROMISE. I have to believe, even in the face of uncertainties, that God will keep his promises and make good come out of all things. Time and time again throughout salvation history, we see God making promises to His people that are fulfilled despite our sinful human ways and blunderings. He never gives up on us, but rather “remembers his covenant forever” (Psalm 105:8).

“She will bear a son and you are to name him Jesus, because he will save his people from their sins." All this took place to fulfill what the Lord had said through the prophet: “Behold, the virgin shall be with child and bear a son, and they shall name him Emmanuel," which means "God is with us.” (Matt. 1:21-23). 

“Destroy this temple and in three days I will raise it up.” (John 2:19)

“I am with you always, until the end of the age.” (Matt. 28:20b) 

The Scripture readings at Mass this Sunday recalled God's covenant with Abram, sending him into the promised land and promising him descendants as numerous as the stars in the sky. Abram responded in faith, "for he thought that the one who had made the promise was trustworthy."

“By faith Abraham obeyed when he was called to go out to a place that he was to receive as an inheritance; he went out, not knowing where he was to go. ... By faith he received power to generate, even though he was past the normal age – and Sarah herself was sterile – for he thought that the one who had made the promise was trustworthy. So it was that there came forth from one man, himself as good as dead, descendants as numerous as the stars in the sky and as countless as the sands on the seashore” (Heb. 11:8, 11-12). 

It is true that Abraham's faith was put to the test. Later he was asked to sacrifice his only son, yet "He reasoned that God was able to raise even from the dead..." (Heb. 11:19).

As I head into the New Year, I seek like Abram and Mary to put my trust in God's promises. Why shed such big tears over such small problems that come our way? We who believe in the promises don't have to sweat the small stuff or doubt the scope of God’s great big plan. There is no reason to give up hope with so great a promise of salvation waiting for us.

Yes, my word is PROMISE. It is a strong word because it is both a noun and a verb. It is something kept but it is also something given. And the question is, when the Lord asks for my faithfulness, my worship and my service to others in return, will I be able to give it all, and keep my word to Him?