The Father is Very Fond of Us

I went to Confession yesterday. Usually I have thought about it, figured out and analyzed my sins, and then prepped my confession speech, so I am not at all worried about confession. I usually feel that this is the official stamp of absolution because God and I have already been discussing these issues indepth.

This time was different. Oh, I did the analyzing, the examination, the discussion with God. But I had a couple of new things on my heart, revealed to me through my ever-so-slow reading of Dante's confessions. When I saw some of the same things showing up in Purgatorio that I did in Inferno, I realized that there were examples lurking in my own soul that I doubtless should be taking more seriously.

Ok, so what?

So, these newbie realizations were some that I cringed from making out loud. In retrospect, I realized that this was because they'd ruin my "rep" with whichever priest heard my confession. Boy oh boy, is that silly. Not only are these sins the routine sort that any priest might hear many times a day, it was a true internal indicator of my pride, my dislike of appearing less in someone elses' eyes.

Which is just the sort of thing that I should be examining and bringing out into the clear light of day for applying balance in my soul ... and for asking God's help ... as well in in those particular "Dante-esque" sins.

Yesterday, no matter where I turned I couldn't forget confession, for which I blame thank my guardian angel who knew just what I needed.

Finally, I realized that, as someone I knew had told me long ago, "God and the angels watched you sin when you did it. You aren't telling anyone anything new, except maybe yourself."

Truer words were never spoken.

I came away from the confessional laughing at myself, with my sense of balance restored. The priest nodded at those sins I didn't want to mention and then concentrated on others that I was all too familiar with confessing. That which I dreaded mentioning was only new and completely embarrassing to myself. Gee, is it all about me or what? Not only did I get absolution, additional graces to help me continue the battle, but a good mirror into my soul.

All for free. What a deal. No wonder God want us to go regularly to confession. He's always wanted the best for us.

Which brings me to the article that inspired me to post all this.

... "Well, it's funny. I didn't, like, confess. I just talked to him. Told him what was going on. It was good. I decided that I didn't want to ask for absolution, though."

It seems our protagonist and his priest had enjoyed a lengthy back-and-forth about the nature of sin, what constitutes sin, and what role conscience plays in that definition. "Some of the things I've done, I know I'm going to do them again. I didn't mind confessing, but it seemed wrong to say an Act of Contrition when I'm not even sure I'm contrite. I know what the church teaches, but God knows everything; He understands my mind and heart. He knows I'm not out to defy him; I'm just living my life, and exploring and growing up. Me and Jesus, we're okay."

Apparently the priest enjoyed this. He told the un-penitent that he appreciated this thoughtful confession over the "lip-service" he so often heard. But there was the matter of absolution. "I don't know how to do a 'partial' absolution, and it seems pointless. Your venial sins are absolved in the Mass, anyway."

"I know," the young man agreed. "I'll just have to stay away from Communion until I can get this all sorted out."

The idea of anyone withholding himself from Communion for what could be years threw me, but he explained, "I'm not going to live a casual, sloppy faith. I believe God would rather have me play fair and be respectful than make a rote confession. So many people just mouth the right words and only half mean it -- as if you can game the system or fool God into thinking you're alright. Who's alright, anyway? Isn't that why God is merciful, because none of us is alright? I love the Eucharist; I won't treat it so carelessly. I can still make a spiritual communion. If it's true, the grace should be able to sneak in."

He had me there. ...

Go read all of this excellent reflection on confession.

The beginning puts me in mind of "A" who recently emailed me that he wasn't receiving communion because he "had to get things right with the Lord." Not what you expect to hear from a college sophomore but just the sort of total honesty that "A" lives his life by.