Because Confession is a Sacrament, and the Sacraments Make All the Difference

Frank and I are gratified by the number of comments so far on the latest post about confession. Blogging is funny: you dig and dig day after day, and then you hit a vein. It turns out, people are passionate about confession. The readers of this blog, at any rate, are uniformly passionately in favor of confession. I’ve reviewed the comments so far, and here are a few conclusions. Please feel free to add your two cents.

The Poll Results Are In

Over the past week we ran a poll to find out how frequently our readers go to confession. The poll closed last night at midnight. It’s pleasing to have received over 250 votes and perhaps surprising to learn that about 80 percent of our voting readers go to confession. Of course, we’re looking at a small and hardly random sample. I’ll bet dollars to donuts that significantly less than 80 percent of all American Catholics go to confession.

So That a Bunch of Nine-Year-Olds Can Be Reconciled With God

Posted by Webster
When I told my father that I was converting to Catholicism, he said, “My Methodist mother would roll over in her grave.” Five minutes later, he said, “There are some things in my life that I am deeply ashamed of, and I haven't even told your mother about them.” My mother was sitting at the table with us as he spoke.

I’m not giving away any family secrets here. Everyone in the world has things they're ashamed of. If my father was an exception, it was on the side of virtue. My father was a highly moral man, my spiritual role model if I ever had one—Dad didn't just preach it, he lived it—and I have no idea what he could have done that would have caused him shame.

But I think I know why he said this right after I had told him that I was converting to Catholicism. He associated Catholicism with confession. And I understood. As a former Episcopalian who sat and watched in uncomprehending silence as my friend Herbie Moloney went inside “his” Catholic church for Saturday-afternoon confession, while I sat ogling girls from a park bench outside, I confess: Confession was the thing about Catholicism that I found most intimidating, unusual, foreign, weird.

Wednesday afternoon, as a teacher of religious ed, I have to stand in front of sixteen fourth-graders and help them prepare for the Sacrament of Reconciliation, which will be offered to them by Father Barnes the following Wednesday. This frankly intimidates me, about as much as if someone had told me I had to go to confession with Herbie Moloney.

Who am I to teach these children about confession? What do I know? These are two questions with distinct answers. It helps me to answer each clearly.

Who am I? Just a guy, what Bill Parcells called a JAG, apparently borrowing the nuttiness about acronyms that Frank picked up in the Marines. I am a guy (other than a seminarian, the only guy and fill-in father among twelve religious ed teachers on Wednesday afternoons). What's more, I'm a guy who loves being Catholic. Somehow I am consoled by the conviction that my ordinariness and my love for the Church—bolstered mightily by the Holy Spirit—may just be enough to make the hour useful and enjoyable for those sixteen squirmers. I suspect that some of them don't have perfect fathers. Some may not have any fathers at all. Few, I imagine, have anything like a spiritual mentor. While I can't fill any of those roles adequately for them, I can at least let them see that such people exist. Isn't that a source of hope?

What do I know? I know my own experience. Confession was every bit as scary for me the first time I went in that room and had to choose (behind the screen? face to face?) before even saying a word. And then there he was, Father Barnes, the priest I had come to respect so quickly and whose respect I surely wanted to win or retain. And suddenly our roles were going to shift and I was going to tell him all the worst things I had ever done in my life, it being my first, “general” confession.

That was terrifying. Yet almost the very moment it began and I got some wind in my sails (was that the Holy Spirit I felt powering me along?), it was an unimaginable relief. Somehow, I think I have to share both my fear and my great relief with the kids this afternoon.

Peter Kreeft, in his Cliff Notes for Religious Ed Teachers (a/k/a Catholic Christianity), offers me excellent bullet points for discussion: I figure the kids need to get a few definitions down: sin, contrition, reconciliation, penance, absolution. But I think there's something much more fundamental at stake, and I have no idea whether I can or even should get this across to nine-year-olds. The issues at stake are:

1. We don't believe in sin anymore, only mistakes.

2. We don't think we need a priest to get over our mistakes.

So we don't go to confession, and our souls are imperiled. Kreeft makes a statement and I'm going to copy it and put it on my bulletin board and somehow try to get it across today in nine-year-old terms:

“There is simply nothing that more quickly and effectively strengthens the average Catholic's moral and spiritual life than frequent and regular confession.”

OK, I get it. I’m ready. Now I just have to get it through their thick little heads.

Thanks to Thomas à Kempis for These Thoughts on Confession

Seemingly, there aren’t enough words to describe the graces we obtain from the Sacrament of Confession. And the number of opinions on this Sacrament are legion, if our poll results and the comments they have prompted are any indication. Webster and I haven’t fully plumbed the depths of this Sacrament yet. For example, we haven’t mentioned Divine Mercy Sunday or the fact that the Sacrament of Confession plays a large role in the diary of Sister Faustina.

Because I Can’t Help Myself

I’m a small-time book publisher, and though I haven’t done the hard research, I’m pretty sure that if you look at the history of the trade, do-it-yourself books peaked before self-help books. The first told my father’s generation how to fix a leaky faucet. The second told my generation how to feed a hungry heart. Late in my own life, with my father gone, I am more convinced than ever that his generation (WWII) was great, mine (Boomers) second-rate. Pretty much everything you need to know about us is in those books.

Because Confession Can Change the World

Posted by Webster 
To set this world spinning the right way round, I think we Catholics might need to do just one thing: Start going to confession again. Then take our kids to confession. Once a month would be OK, once a week even better. Don't believe me? Listen to me brag about my fourth-grade CCD class.

I'm sure you could change the world if you could just get your kids alone to go to confession, as my fourth-graders did today. Stand and watch as each of them prepares in silence, goes nervously through the door into the sacristy, and comes out again with a huge grin and a “whew,” then settles down on a kneeler to say penance. You yourself would start going to confession again just because the whole thing is so impressive, so moving—and the kids look so happy when it's over.

Last week, we prepared for the Sacrament of Reconciliation by going over what you say and conducting a collective examination of conscience. I gave each child a piece of paper and a pencil, read them a series of questions, then told them after each question to write down any sins that occurred to them. Of course, their notes were "for their eyes only." Here are some of the questions:

Do I think of God and speak to Him by praying each day?
Do I use the Lord's name with reverence and love?
Do I attend Mass on Sunday or on Saturday afternoon?
Do I obey my parents and teachers quickly and cheerfully, or must I be reminded many times?
Do I obey the rules of home and school?
Am I kind to everyone?
Did I hit, kick, or in any way hurt others on purpose?
Do I make fun or say mean things to anyone?
Do I tell the truth?

There were more such questions on the list given to us CCD teachers to help our students prepare.

My kids have never been anything like this serious in any previous class. These kids chatter for a living. Suddenly, not a word. Last week, as I read the questions, they were hunched over their crib sheets like law school graduates over a bar exam. It was that intense. Biting their lips. Biting their erasers. Jiggling their feet nervously. And barely saying a word. Which is about as amazing as an entire amusement park going stone silent all at once.

I was very proud of the fourteen, out of sixteen, who showed up today. They could have blown it off, found any excuse to miss it. But I honestly think they wanted to come, even when they thought they didn't. Even C., who was waiting nervously in his mother's car as I walked up to the parish school building, where classes meet. His mom said he was nervous about confession and had lost his workbook for the second time. I crouched down to speak through the car window and tell C. that when I had my first confession two years ago, I was nervous as heck. I think I even used the word heck.

When attendance had been taken, Father Barnes led the way to the chapel in the convent next door to the parish school. He told the boys to remove their hats when entering the convent and showed boys and girls how to genuflect on their right knees before sitting in their pews. He asked them to be silent and prepare themselves while waiting their turn, and most were pretty good about keeping silence. Denise, the other fourth-grade teacher, and I counseled kids who looked especially nervous. Otherwise, there was that amazing, eerie phenomenon of thirty nine-year-old children sitting quietly for half an hour.

As each child came out of the sacristy, he or she pulled down the kneeler at their pew and said their penance. Then we walked back to our classrooms. I asked the children if anyone felt worse now than they did before confession. No one raised a hand. Who felt better? Everyone. Every single child.

Each child had an opportunity to talk about the experience. Then we ended with a prayer.

Because of What Sin Does

Guest post by Allison 
We sang a plea for God’s mercy as an Offertory Hymn at Sunday's 11 a.m. Mass: Parce, Domine, parce populo tuo; ne in aeternum irascaris nobis. (Spare your people, Lord. 
Be not angry, Lord, with your people forever.)
 Later, at Vespers, three members of the Gregorian Chant Club—my son, my friend Andy, and I—chanted in Latin Audi, Benigne Conditor, which begins with the fourth verse of Parce Domine: Audi, benigne Conditor,
 Nostras preces cum fletibus. In hoc sacro jejunio, 
Fusas quadragenario. (O Merciful Creator, hear! 
To us in pity bow thine ear. Accept the tearful prayer we raise
 in this our fast of forty days.)

For Thoughts Like These On Confession

What follows are thoughts on the Sacrament of Reconciliation written by Kenhelm Henry Digby in his classic, Mores Catholici.

Because the Mass is the Mass

The beloved Carmelite Chapel at our local mall is undergoing a makeover after 50 years in business. Since late winter, it has moved temporarily and now sits in an abandoned retail shell beside Toys 'R Us, opposite Nordstrom's. The temporary chapel (left) is not exactly a visual inspiration. Not knowing just where the oldest chapel in an American mall had been moved, I went in search of it this morning because I wanted to go to confession before a weekend retreat.

With the Help of a Good Confessor

Yesterday a fellow parishioner confided to me that she does not go to Father Barnes for confession, but goes to a confessor in another town. My friend’s reason? “I’d just be embarrassed. Most of my sins are truly venial, but Father B’s my friend,  and I—(shrug, grimace)” This reminded me of my quandary when converting: Should I confess face to face or behind a screen? And to whom?

Because the Sacrament of Reconciliation Can Happen Anywhere, At Any Time

It's not my intention to make my child look bad. Suffice it to say, one of our sons made a serious lapse in judgment the other day. He did something wrong and he knew it. My husband and I told him so and he was contrite. We've grounded him for a week. And then this morning, our son and I stopped by our parish after the 8 a.m. Mass so he could go to confession. I reminded him to lay it all out on the table, to leave no aspect of this unfortunate incident unsaid.

Confession: Thanks to Gloria.TV and Archbishop Sheen

Readers of this blog know how much we have been discussing the Sacrament of Reconciliation here lately.  Webster started it the day before St. Valentine’s Day. He followed it up with this post the day after Valentine’s Day and a poll that drew over 250 votes. I threw in this post on Scriptural references to the Sacrament and Webster wrapped the discussion up with the thought that we can’t help ourselves.

Because Confession Puts Us Back Together

Does everyone remember "The Kid?" That's what I call Marc Barnes who blogs over at BadCatholic. Yes, the one with the blog with a photograph of nuns lighting up smokes. Marc is a gifted writer, and he wrote a guest post for me once. He also has a talent for making videos.

Back in January, I shared the video that Marc made about the March for Life with you. It went viral (sort of), as well it should have. It is that good!

For Practical Advice Like This from Benedict Baur

Webster was kind enough earlier this year to send me a gem of a book about developing one's interior spiritual life. This is one of those books, like St. Teresa of Avila's The Interior Castle, that is so deep, so lovely and so helpful that one certainly cannot read it in one sitting, or even a chapter at a time. In fact, I have been reading it sentence by sentence, pausing to take notes and meditate on how the book's message speaks to my own circuitous pilgrim path.

For Thoughts Like These from John C. H. Wu

 I've been reading one of John Wu's books. I first received it via Intra-library loan through my local public library.  But it is so good that I coughed up the dough to buy my own copy as well.  It's worth the cost, trust me.

I wrote about how John is a reformed hell-raiser, which is one of the reasons I like him. He lays it all out for us in Beyond East and West. In Part One, it is his personal story. He covers his family background, where he went to school, his rise, his becoming a Christian, his being befriended by Justice Holmes of the U.S. Supreme Court, his falling away from Christianity, his decent into depravity and his conversion to Catholicism.

Because There Are Good Fathers

Born in 1951, I have lived during six papacies—Pius XII, John XXIII, Paul VI, John Paul I, John Paul II, and Benedict XVI—four Italians, a Pole, and a German, six men in white walking around in a field of Roman numerals. Although John XXIII is already "Blessed" and John Paul II was a paradigm-shifting statesman, for my money, Benedict XVI is the best pope of my lifetime.

Because We Are A Bible-Believing Church II, Confession

A little over a month ago I wrote a little post, Because We Are A Bible Believing Church.  Webster’s two recent posts (here and here) and our poll (see sidebar) on the Sacrament of Reconciliation (aka Confession) have generated plenty of comments from readers. In light of the fact that a good number of you may not be Catholic, I think it’s a good idea to let you know how I approached this Sacrament prior to my own conversion. And how my understanding of Scripture led me to accept the Church’s teaching on Confession.

To Redeem My Past

If Catholicism were only about getting into heaven, then it would be only about the future. I'm sure there are skeptics who look at our faith this way, as a means of racking up brownie points for the afterlife. In fact, however, I chose to become a Catholic mostly for what it does for my present. It changes my life, day by day. It makes me happier, here and now. What I didn't know then, and what has taken two years to begin to understand is, being a Catholic also changes my past.

To Find Peacefulness of Soul, Be Confident in the Mercy of the Lord

What follows are a few thoughts on Christian peace of the soul by my friend John C.H. Wu. They are from the chapter in his book "The Interior Carmel" that reflect upon the beatitude "blessed are the peacemakers, for they shall be called children of God." How soon we forget this calling of ours! Not only our vocation as peacemakers, but our destiny to become the adopted children of God.

Because of Opinion Polls (Not!)

—Feast of St. Teresa of Avila  

The latest research numbers are out showing (once again) that the average Catholic in the pews in the United States, is morally sick, spiritually lame, and theologically lazy. How in the hell did I wind up surrounded by such a motley crew? How did I slip into this program? Why would I join this outfit?!

Well, I was called is all I can figure.