With
the coming of spring each year, the annual ritual of First Confession
takes place at many parishes. Second graders who will be making their
First Holy Communion in May are now preparing for (or may have already
made) their first confessions.
For those who
haven’t see this liturgy recently, some things have changed quite a bit
from when I was a kid while some other things haven’t changed at all.
Even so, however, the Sacrament of Penance continues to challenge each
of us to recall and to become in all of our
thoughts, in all of our words, and in all of our actions that person God
has called us to be. We should not overlook or neglect those
challenges.
But, first, rewind
to the past...
The Dominican
Sisters of St. Catherine, Kentucky, prepared my class for First
Confessions during the winter months of 1962.
The first
preparation for receiving the Sacrament of Penance, what the Sisters
called our “remote preparation”—remember they were Dominicans and
everything had to be very logical, just as St. Thomas Aquinas, who
founded the Dominicans, would want it—required us to memorize the Act of
Contrition.
While this might
sound relatively simple enough for a second grader, what this really
meant was that we had to write out the Act of Contrition each day as
part of our penmanship lesson. The “Palmer method” of writing was
definitely “in.” Remote preparation also meant that the Sisters would
drill us each day for weeks on end by having us stand up individually in
religion class to recite the Act of Contrition from memory. Since we
were allegedly picked at random, this was sort of like playing “The
Wheel of Misfortune.” Overall, I’d say that the Sisters really did
drill the Act of Contrition into us and, to this day, I continue to
believe that each and every one of us could say the Act of Contrition
even when we were fast asleep.
The second
preparation for receiving the Sacrament of Penance—what the Sisters
called our “proximate preparation”—was to proceed to the church and
practice the entire ritual of going to confession.
Proximate
preparation consisted, first, in taking our places in the pews and, then, kneeling
down and praying that God enlighten each of us about our sins. That
wasn’t so difficult but, speaking solely for myself, I didn’t need any
enlightenment. This wasn’t because I was immaculately conceived. No,
enlightenment wasn’t necessary in my case because I’d have to have been
pretty stupid not to know that I was disobedient, had lied, fought with
my brother, got angry, said mean things, appropriated my brother’s toys,
didn’t do all of my homework on time, etc., etc., etc. Why was I so
aware? It was simply because my parents, sister, and brother were
always all so very helpful in reminding me about everything I had done
wrong. I guess at that time in my life, I was “an open book.”
So, instead of using
the time I was supposed to spend kneeling and praying to God for
enlightenment, I used this time to spy out and calculate when I’d make
my break to get to the confessional. Getting into the correct line
for confession was the second part of the proximate preparation for the
Sacrament of Penance, well maybe not for the Sisters but definitely for
us kids.
Now, this took a bit
of rather careful planning as well as some nerve and daring because,
ideally, the place everyone wanted to end up for confession was in the
shortest line with what we perceived to be the “nicest” priest.
It went something
like this.
We were all scared
of the pastor, so he always had the shortest line. That was the line
nobody wanted to be in. Since we all liked the youngest priest, that
meant having to stand in the longest line. The problem, of course, was
that just as his line would shorten, a bunch of other people would have
already jumped up, pushed and shoved, and hurried to fill in his line.
None of us minded the middle-aged priest but, if his line was long
because no one wanted to go to confession to the pastor, this was very
problematic because it meant some of us would be jerked out of line by
one of the Sisters and forced to get into the pastor’s line. That was a
death sentence, we believed. So, picking the right line for confession
took quite a bit of spying and calculating about just when to make one’s move.
All of this proximate preparation began during the time we were to pray to God for
enlightenment about our sins.
The third part of
our proximate preparation for confession was the “practice” confession
in the dark and mysterious confessional, what we called “the box.”
Hopefully having
landed in the penitent’s “line up” of first choice, tension rose as each
of us would move up one space after a classmate would emerge from and
another would proceed into the box. But, when the moment came for to
enter the box, that was it. There was “No Exit” just as the
existentialist philosopher Albert Camus had written. It was now time to fess up. “Bless me Father, for I have
sinned….”
Now, since this was
just practice, what we called a “dry run,” my buddies and I invented
short lists of sins to make it all a little more interesting. This was
the time to admit to doing all sorts of things we didn’t understand at
the time and didn’t have the nerve to ask any of the Sisters in religion
class about what these things meant, like committing adultery sixteen
times or “covering” our neighbor’s wife but not being able to remember
how many times. The Sisters were the “practice” confessors and didn’t
seem to mind all that much those lists of sins we conspired to confess.
But, if we forgot the Act of Contrition, we knew the Sisters would be
introducing us to our Maker very soon.
Then, after the
Sister assigned a pretend penance, we returned to our pews and pretended
to do our penance, the fourth element in our proximate preparation for
First Confession.
Having survived the
remote and proximate preparations for First Confession, we were now
prepared for the real thing. But, when the day for First Confession
came and despite all of the practice, it still proved to be a pretty
nerve-wracking experience.
At the appointed
time, all one hundred and twenty some of us second graders marched in a
double-file line over to church. Once the process started, everything
went pretty much just as we had rehearsed it, but I didn’t find having
to admit all that I really had done to be the most pleasant thing in the
world to do. At the time, I believe I rated it somewhere just below
doing the chores around the house and picking weeds but above going to
the dentist.
Now, fast forward to
the present...
Although much is the
same today as we prepare our young people for First Confessions, some
things are different.
For the most part,
Sisters no longer prepare young people for First Confession, religious
educators do. Kids continue to be taught the Act of Contrition and have
practice confessions. One thing I believe is different is that the Act
of Contrition isn’t drilled into young people today as well as it was
drilled into me and my classmates. However, I did say “I believe”
because how am I to know how well my classmates performed when the
pressure was really on? But, it is not at all infrequently in my
experience as a confessor that a young
person will claim not to know the Act of Contrition or say “O my God, I
am hardly sorry for having offended You.” And, there’s a new
line I recently heard, “I detest your sins because of my
just punishments.”
In many parishes,
First Confession is no longer a private affair held during the school
day for the “Catholics” or immediately after school for the “publics,”
that is, the Catholic kids who go to public school and CCD. Instead,
parents attend First Confession with their children on a Saturday
morning. From what I can tell, parents seem really proud to bring their
children to First Confessions and, when it comes time to introduce
their children to the priest in the confessional, parents have this
devilish smirk on their faces. I think this approach
is very good because, after all, God has entrusted parents with the duty
of being the first and best religious educators of their children.
But—and here’s one of the challenges I mentioned earlier that we should
not overlook or forget—I wonder, if confession
is so good for their kids, why do so many of these parents not go to
confession themselves?
From what the ushers
tell me, kids are still pretty careful about what confessor they pick
and I guess the sins they confess are pretty much the same. But, instead of entering
“the box” as I did, most First Confessions take place face-to-face. I
can relate with the nervousness these young people experience when they
close the confessional door behind them and take their seat. And,
although many of today’s young people are much more chatty than my
classmates ever were or wanted to be, I also identify with the shame
they feel because many don’t look the priest in the eye. That’s good!
It means they know these things are wrong. That presents another
one of those challenges I mentioned earlier: unless something is really
wrong with us, we know what we have done that is wrong and we know it
because we are embarrassed by it. We should not overlook or
neglect what shames us.
One of the things I
am most awed by in these First Confessions is the kids’ honesty, their
real desire to put all of those things behind themselves, and to be the
good persons they know they should be. It truly is a graced moment to
be able to listen and to speak with these young people—even if it is
briefly—about where all of those little sins—what we used to call
“venial” sins—could lead them if they don’t recognize that God is
calling them to be someone other than that person they’ve chosen to be
through actions they know are wrong. Not only will they not become that
person, they also will not provide an example for others to follow
which, of course, is what discipleship is all about. Young people
really do want to be disciples. They don’t mind reaching out and
stretching toward the standard of heroic virtue. That’s good too.
In today’s epistle,
we heard St. Paul writing something to the Philippians that might strike
us as rather bold, if not audacious and highly arrogant. He stated:
“Join with others in being imitators of me…and observe those of us who
conduct themselves according to the model you have in us.”
Think about it: St.
Paul is telling the Philippians to imitate him! For us, this is the
equivalent of parents telling their children to imitate them and of
young people telling their brothers and sisters and friends to imitate
them. In the business world, it’s called “walking the talk” and
“leadership by example.” For disciples, it means avoiding any hypocrisy
by imitating virtuous and holy people like St. Paul.
In her comedy
routine, Joan Rivers moves forward a bit and, with her hand, motions her
audience to lean forward in their seats. Then, she asks, “Can we be
honest for a moment?” Then, she launches into a description about how
we human beings really behave.
Well, can we be
honest for a moment?
If we were to speak
about how we live our faith, how many of us can honestly say to others,
in unison with St. Paul, “Be imitators of me”?
Reflecting back upon
First Confessions, perhaps you might be thinking that I’m talking about
how parents require their children to go to the Sacrament of Penance yet
don’t partake of the Sacrament themselves. I am talking about this
hypocrisy, but not directly.
Reflecting back upon
our responsibilities as disciples, perhaps you might also be thinking
that I’m talking about things like the quality of how we worship
God—including things like daily prayer, reading Scripture, studying the
Catholic faith, participating meaningfully in Sunday liturgy—as well as
fairness and integrity in our dealings with others—including reverence,
honesty, justice, care, and compassion. If we were to tell others to
imitate us in these things, would we be asking them to do what we’re not
doing ourselves? I am also talking about this hypocrisy, but not
directly.
St. Paul’s
confidence in telling tell others to imitate him was not bred and
nurtured in arrogance. No, quite the opposite! His confidence was born
and bred in humility. Think about how tough it was for God to make St.
Paul made aware of his sin. After all, God did have to knock Paul off
of his high horse of prideful arrogance! And even after God did that,
it still took Paul quite a bit of time before he recognized how far he
had fallen into the depths of great moral and spiritual depravity. That
awareness, however, changed his life. Humbled at the sight of what he
had chosen to become, St. Paul finally was able to confess who he knew
God had called him to be and, then and only then, did St. Paul entrust
his life to God and become the “Apostle to the Gentiles.”
That honest
self-awareness is precisely what I am talking about.
First Confession
and, for that matter, every confession, isn’t simply recognizing what
we’ve done that has lead us to experience moral and spiritual
depravity. Nor is First Confession and, for that matter, every
confession, simply the shame we feel and the blush that turns our faces
crimson red when we admit the truth about what we’ve done. As important
as that recognition and admission is, making a good confession requires,
more importantly, that we recognize who God has called us to be and,
then, as we see how far we’ve wandered from that path or the impediments
that we’ve allowed to keep us from walking more steadily upon that path,
humility is the gift of God’s grace that strengthens us and makes it
possible for us to live our lives as those virtuous and holy persons God
has called us to be as a “light to the nations.”
Confession, then,
does not so much concern a forthright listing of sins as much as does
concern a forthright statement of faith. In the Sacrament of Penance,
we confess, “Here’s the person God has called me to be and who I want to
be” yet “left to my own devices look at who I have become.” Then,
fortified by the grace of humility, the forgiveness of sins, and the
healing given in the Sacrament of Penance, we can venture forth into the
world to live our lives as God has called us to live them so that we can
tell others to imitate us.
When we perceive
this reality—the virtuous and holy person who God calls us to be—our
lives will be transfigured, just as Jesus was transfigured on Mount
Tabor. It may become apparent in a fleeting momentary perception or a
deep-seated feeling of inner peace and contentment. But, when we
perceive the glory that is ours as people whom God has created in His
divine image and likeness and see that glory not in terms of our
possessions, social influence, or personal achievements—which only puff
us up with arrogance and pride—we will discover how humility is a great
grace that strengthens us to be virtuous and holy people worthy of
imitation.
As Jesus’ disciples,
each of us should be able to state with full confidence, as St. Paul
did, “Be imitators of me.” We can only do so, however, when we possess
the confidence that is born in humility. His statement, “Be imitators
of me,” presents all of us a very great challenge if only because it
allows no room for hypocrisy. And, the place where we rid ourselves of
hypocrisy is in the Sacrament of Penance, especially during this Season
of Lent. |