The homily I heard the first Sunday in Advent wasn’t the usual “longing for our Savior” one. Instead, the priest talked about what we do in darkness—and how frightening it can be to shine the light on those things.
Paradoxically, confession—part of shining the light on our darkness—keeps many inactive Catholics away from the Church. It’s also something many non-Catholics don’t understand. Why not talk directly to God, they ask; why do you need an intermediary? Well, we do talk directly to God. But the feeling of release and relief that comes with this sacrament, with coming clean with another human being who’s bound not to tell anyone else what you said, is beyond words.
The Saturday after Thanksgiving in 2005, I’d had a stormy (on my part) conversation with my pastor as part of my return to an active faith. I threw everything I had at him regarding some of my most ungodly behavior—and he didn’t flinch. He suggested I attend the parish’s weekly Advent retreat discussions—and come to the church’s reconciliation service.
I feared what that would involve. Sharing my sins in front of a lot of strangers? A bunch of people all saying ten Our Fathers and five Hail Marys? I asked two Catholic friends, neither of whom had ever been to such a service. I hit pay dirt with the third person I called.
“Usually, there’s a service with some common prayers and communal forgiveness, probably some songs,” she said. “There’ll be a number of priests, many from outside your parish. You pick one—some people like to go to priests they know; others prefer anonymity. You’ll be absolved and get some penance. It’s wonderful, really; very cathartic and freeing.”
“I don’t have to confess in public?”
“Nope.”
After some drama about whether I should go to my pastor or a stranger (I decided on my pastor so I wouldn’t have to tell the whole story again), I asked how the whole confession thing worked, since I hadn’t done it for more than thirty years.
“All you need to say is, ‘Bless me, Father, for I have sinned. You already know my sins. I’m here as you suggested, and I’m seeking absolution,’ something like that,” my friend advised.
“I’m scared,” I said. “What if he won’t absolve me?”
“Your pastor?”
“No … God.”
“God wants to forgive you,” she said. “But you have to do your part. Are you going to change your behavior?”
“I’m going to have to think about that some more. I’m not sure.”
“Keep thinking. I know it’s hard. But look what God’s offering you in return.”
The service, including absolution, brought me back into full communion with the Church. I still struggle with changing the inner darkness, as I suspect we all do. But I now understand that what we’re offered in the light is well worth the struggle.
