I'm sort of a surreptitious confession-goer. I go a few times a year. I don't feel very comfortable announcing to wife and family, "I'm going to confession!", because (a) announcing it strikes me as the equivalent of lengthening my tassel or widening my phylactery; and (b) it stimulates too much speculation along the lines of, "Gasp - he needs to go to confession - what did he do?!" Right now we're six people in a not-very-large house, and privacy already is at a premium.
But because I am a parent and am supposed to be setting an example, even to kids who think they know it all already, I do occasionally say, "I'm going to go to reconciliation today, would you like to join me?" Almost always, they decline, but at least they don't roll their eyes. At least not while I'm in the room.
Twice during the year, including this week, a few of the parishes in the area team up to offer group reconciliation services. This would be the so-called Form 2: Rite for Reconciliation of Several Penitents with Individual Confession and Absolution. Which is to say: anywhere from 100-300 people from the surrounding community gather in one of the local parish churches. A priest leads a liturgy of the word. And then 7-10 priests, pulled in from the area parishes, fan out to the confessionals and a number of fairly semi-private corners of the worship space. The gathered penitents choose priests to hear their individual confessions. They may choose a priest they like, or they may choose the shortest line.
Now, if you do the math, you realize quickly that 300 people waiting for 10 priests to hear their confessions means that each priest is going to hear 30 confessions in a sitting - which is a lot. It means that the lines at these group services are pretty long. In fact, they're considerably longer than they usually are on any given Saturday morning throughout the year. And so, feeling that it was about time to go again, I thought I'd be clever and go - surreptitiously - this past Saturday morning at a neighboring parish at their regular reconciliation time, rather than join the sinful herd at one of the group liturgies this week.
I showed up on Saturday morning right at 11 am, which is the published start time. This was to be a surreptitious duck-in; my announced intention for leaving the house was to do the grocery shopping for the week. My hope was that I could get in and out of church fairly quickly, and then on to the grocery store, with nobody else the wiser. But the time spent end-to-end in the confession experience is always a roll of the dice. My own confessions actually are very short, which probably is a testament to how poor I am at examining my conscience and remembering all the crummy stuff I've done over the last few months. And so it always surprises me how long some people take in the confessional. They can be in there for 15-20 minutes. It's like the way some people hog the bathroom: you start wondering, 'What is he doing in there?'. Only in this case, it's: 'What could he possibly have done that takes this long to confess?' I should add that the long-penitent-in-front-of-me issue doesn't only come up on Saturday mornings - it can happen at the group reconciliation services as well. And since most of those are only vocally private - you can't hear what the penitent is saying, but you can see perfectly well who is talking to the priest in the corner - you can try to give him the fish-eye stare, in an effort to hurry him along a little. Which, I suppose, is one more sin to bring into the confessional when it's finally your turn.
So as I strolled through the church door this past Saturday, I was immediately chagrined to note that I was at least the 12th person in line. This wasn't promising. I choose this church for reconciliation for several reasons: it's considered kind of an awkward or unprofessional thing for a minister to use the priests at their own parish, so deacons and staff members always go to another parish; the 11 am start time at this church is convenient for me; and the priests here are pretty good about listening, understanding, giving good advice, and so on. And, not lowest on the the list of reasons: the lines usually aren't very long. I'm typically the 5th or 6th person at worst. But today wasn't typical. Something was calling people to confess. In fact, within a few minutes of my arrival, another half-dozen or so late arrivals piled into line behind me. Advent is a season of penitence, so looking at it objectively, it's probably a good thing that people are drawn to the sacrament of penance at this time of year. But when you're toward the back of a long line, and you're trying to execute a surreptitious duck-in, it's difficult to be objective.
Exacerbating my stress was the fact that there was no evidence that a priest had arrived yet. The confessionals here have those indicator lights above the priest's and the penitent's doors. There was no indicator light lit up on in the priest's confessional. And most importantly, nobody was going in to confess, so the line wasn't getting shorter.
In a typical Saturday-confession experience, the people waiting in line are silent. To me, it always has felt like a grim silence, although the sacramental experience itself has never made me feel grim; I actually look forward to it, because it leaves me feeling palpably lighter somehow. Whether that is a genuine spiritual experience, or just some shallow subjective feeling on my part, I've never figured out. But in this case, as the minutes ticked by, and still no priest, a few conversations sprang up among those waiting in line.
I had pulled out my smart phone upon arrival, in order to do a web search for an examination of conscience; I figured, if I have to wait for 11 people in front of me, I may as well be as prepared as I can be. I'm sure I looked like an insipid dope tapping away on my Android - probably everyone else thought I was checking texts or tweets or some such trivial pursuit when I should be doing nothing but standing there, feeling grimly and stoically penitent. But that's for them to work out with their consciences. At any rate, after about 10 minutes of waiting, with still no priest, I Googled the phone number of the parish office, and called it. A teenage girl answered the phone. I asked if confessions were scheduled for this morning. She assured me they were going on in church as we spoke. I assured her that, to the contrary, I was in church at the moment, in the very line for confessions, and there were no confessions in flight. This flummoxed her. She asked me to hold. I waited for a few minutes with the phone at my ear. Everyone else in line was watching me anxiously. She finally came back and let me know she had informed her supervisor, who in turn was searching for the priest. I relayed this news to my fellow line-waiters. And we lapsed into a sort of resigned waiting. Too much resignation on the part of Catholics, but that's a topic for another post.
By now it was about quarter past eleven. The group of waiters immediately behind me, which seemed to be a mom with a couple of young-adult sons, debated whether or not to stick around. The mom seemed to be of the opinion that, if she showed up but the priest didn't, it was hardly her fault. One of the sons insisted that, if she didn't actually confess to the priest, it didn't count. Since I'm constitutionally incapable of overhearing strangers have an interesting conversation without inserting myself into the middle of it, I ventured the opinion that we had come in good faith, and that if the actual sacrament didn't achieve lift-off today through no fault of our own, God would understand, at least until we got another opportunity to attend. I hoped that was true.
I waited a few more minutes. Still no priest. I called the office again. The same teenager answered the phone. I started to explain that I was the guy who had called earlier. She said, "Oh yes, good, I was just about to come over to the church with a sign. Fr. Tom will be there at 11:30."
I thanked her, and reported this latest development to my fellow line-mates. This time, there were some raised eyebrows. But nobody moved. Except me. The clock on my surreptitious duck-in had expired. I went grocery shopping. Then, this evening, I went to one of the communal reconciliation services. I even announced it to the family at the dinner table. And it wasn't so bad. I managed to be second in line, a record for me. And I got a nice, understanding priest. And now I feel forgiven again.
I've only gone the one time to confession, so interesting to hear what it's typically like for others. Do Catholics believe that if they don't go to confession they won't be forgiven? Can't you just ask God directly?
ReplyDeleteIt is my understanding that confession by telephone or internet (say, via Skype) is not valid. Why, though, I don't understand. Is this a "man-made" rule that could be changed, or is this law of God's creation, like, for example, the impossibility of women being ordained to the priesthood. :p
ReplyDeleteLOL, an examination of conscience app, what'll they think of next? I don't mind penance services, but I'd rather just go at the regularly scheduled time. Have had the same confessor for 22 years. He used to be our pastor and fortunately when he got reassigned it was to a neighboring parish. Dont know what I'll do when he retires, he's already 79. Get used to someone else, I guess.
ReplyDeleteYes of course we can go to God directly, in fact that's what we're supposed to do when we are conscious of sin. But besides the fact of Reconciliation being a sacrament, its a layer of accountability. I think in 12 Steps programs they talk about being accountable to your Higher Power, yourself, and another person. The sacrament is also an occasion of grace, and an encounter with the Holy Spirit. Seems like pretty good reasons to avail yourself of it.
And so it always surprises me how long some people take in the confessional. They can be in there for 15-20 minutes. It's like the way some people hog the bathroom: you start wondering, 'What is he doing in there?'. Only in this case, it's: 'What could he possibly have done that takes this long to confess?'
ReplyDeleteThis may be related to what a clinical psychologist friend calls the "silting effect" people who continue to come back time and again to therapy. As time goes by they occupy more and more of a therapist's time.
A prominent expert in spiritual direction reported a similar phenomena. People who keep coming back for spiritual direction so that they occupy more and more of your time.
My conclusion is that not all motivations for getting therapy, spiritual direction, or going to confession are healthy.
Raber never tells me when he's going to Confession because he knows I'll give him suggestions.
ReplyDeleteConfession was less embarrassing for me when I explained right after the "Bless me for I have sinned" that I was a struggling convert who wasn't sure what to do in there.
The priest walked me through it. Wasn't pretty, but helped him to know right off I didn't know what was what.
Busted!
ReplyDeleteIn my day there was just plain lousy catechesis about Confession. There must be a lot of theologians doing time in purgatory for reverse engineering confessor's manuals into doctrine. The manuals -- with their typically light type for ALWAYS venial, bold face for ALWAYS mortal and italic for could go either way -- were supposed to enable priests to find the sweet spot in their advice. Of course, a better way would have been to have new priests sit in with older priests until they had heard it all. But somehow it didn't seem sacramental to have on-the-job training in the box.
So they had books that reduced life to typefaces. And it was all downhill from there. Jim, you should take comfort in having seen a confession line. Some middle-aged priests have never seen one. VAT II tried to undo the damage, but a lot of people still have their head full of spinach, and they say to hell with it. And the younger ones don't catch on to the value of the sacrament because their parents don't know it.
I expect the Church will rediscover the sacrament and figure out how to do it, and that it will become popular. We all have plenty to be sorry for. But probably not in what's left of my lifetime.
Louise Collis's book about Margery of Kemp is an interesting study in adventures in penance. Collis believes Margery's pilgrimages and hysteria resulted from her fear of confession for some sin she had built up in her mind as unsayable. She screamed and cried and claimed to have visions. Her neighbors got so sick of it that they tried to get her convicted of witchcraft and burned up. The book is "Memoirs of a Medieval Woman." Fascinating and kind of sad.
ReplyDeleteSounds like she had some mental health issues. I guess it just shows you don't have to be "normal" to be a saint, whatever normal is.
DeleteI expect the Church will rediscover the sacrament and figure out how to do it
ReplyDeleteIn all these discussion about confession we need to recognized that the Church's pre Vatican II practice of frequent confession and frequent communion existed for only about 50 years from the time that Pius X encouraged frequent communion.
Prior to that for centuries it was confession and Communion during the Easter Season for most. Only priests and religious practiced more frequent confession and Communion.
Then there were centuries of public penance and public reconciliation usually during Lent, e.g. being ritually excluded at the beginning of Lent then reconciled during Holy Week.
So we have a huge disparity of practice in our past they we need to recover. E.G. for centuries spiritual direction including confession of all experience positive and negative experiences were made to lay spiritual directors (i.e. monks and hermits).
That tradition says that we can easily deceive ourselves with our positive spiritual experiences, e.g. excessive prayer and fasting to show our spiritual superiority over others.
Jack - you make some great points here.
DeleteI don't have much to add except that we live in an age of intense privacy, in which we recoil at the prospect of anyone else judging what we do. I think many people resent having to recount their failings to the priest, and my little amateur theory is that the resentment is rooted in this notion of intense privacy. I think we equate autonomy with privacy.
For this reason, even an individual confession is a counter-cultural act. It acknowledges that there are limits to my privacy and autonomy. It acknowledges that there are social ramifications even to my personal, private acts. If we're really doing it right, it also forces me to (as the twelve-steppers say) make amends - seek to repair whatever hurt and damage I have done.
This approach is quite different than the prevailing standard of, I will do whatever I damn well please, so long as the parties consent and nobody is hurt.
This prevailing attitude would probably limit the popularity of a regime of public penance :-)
Personal confession really neglects the social aspects of sin, e.g. the sexual abuse scandal.
ReplyDeleteIf we had public confession and reconciliation as in the early church, priests abusers would not only lose their office, they would spend years, probably decades in a special section of the church, doing public penance and being excluded from the Eucharist. That would get around some of the problems of just kicking priests abusers out which allows them to molest again because of their anonymity.
The lack of public penance means that other people in society especially the victims of sins do not receive their proper due.
Private confession really ignores corporate sin that is the result not just of managers but all members of a corporation or social group. Racism, sexism, etc. are not just the result of individual conscious acts of sin but patterns of thinking, feeling, and acting that go unacknowledged.
That is a really interesting point, Jack. I suppose our acknowledgment of sin at the beginning of the Mass is supposed to cover corporate sin.
DeleteCorporate sin is more than that we are all sinners. We sin when we keep corporate structures like clericalism, racism, and sexism in place. We have to acknowledge the systematic wrongdoing that takes place, and our complicity with it.
DeleteOne priest I know always brings up social sins, or corporate sins, if the penitent doesn't mention any. If more priests believed what the church teaches about clericalism, racism, sexism and screwing the public wholesale, more would bring it up.
DeleteTom, so you go in there , and Father says, "Uh, yah, that's good as far as it goes, but what about this stuff?" Yikes!
DeleteI have to admit I don't think much of that approach. We had a minor brouhaha in our archdiocese lately over a young and inexperienced priest who was hearing middle school confessions at one of the Catholic schools (and why would you give some newbie that task, first rattle out of the box?) He was interrogating (excuse me, "active listening") about sexual sins. Many of the parents objected to that as inappropriate. I agreed with them. I feel that it isn't a confessor's job to suggest, unless the penitent brought it up or asked for help. An appropriate place for bringing up social sins and complicity in them would be a communal examination of conscience, such as a Penance service. Or some parishes leave sheets to read about examination of conscience on a table for people to pick up before confessions. That gives people something to think about, without making them feel that they are getting the third degree.
DeleteI would say that I'm not responsible in toto for those social structures. I am responsible for my complicity in them, including what I have failed to do when I have encountered them. Those are ripe for individual confession and absolution. A good examination of conscience would help bring those to light.
DeleteWe are not going to shrink or eradicate those structures of sin via the confessional. Rather, we are called to undertake cooperative works of justice to combat those injustices.
I have never been given the third degree. I have been tuned into things I hadn't thought of on my own.
DeleteBack in the day, I asked a priest to turn down the radio on which he was listening to the Notre Dame game so I could hear what he was saying.
There are good confessors and bad confessors. When you hit one of the latter, don't go back. When you hit one of the former, ask him to be your spiritual director. A lot will refuse because they honestly don't know how. So if you find a good one, keep him. Either way, find out the score before you leave.
I have found in the sacrament of the sick a great substitution for the sacrament of reconciliation.
ReplyDeleteThe sacrament of the sick acknowledges our weakness, vulnerability, need for help, and conversion. I first began this in the 1980s when I was diagnosed with high blood pressure. It was a way to acknowledge that I had a very serious health problem even though it had few manifestations, and that I had to engage in many different behaviors to deal with my situation. I think that is far more relevant than listing numbers and types of "sins." It requires life style change which I see as the essence of conversion.
Jack - as the economists say, the sacrament of the sick isn't a substitute, it's a complement to the sacrament of penance.
DeleteI love this post!
ReplyDeleteFor the past few years I've been doing catechism and have therefore felt obligated to go to confession when the youth were going to confession. This year I have only one group of youth, and they have no confession organized during Advent, so I am going to waiting until they go, at the beginning of Lent. In other words: it is not a sacrament I appreciate.