topleft05.jpg (18208 bytes)HOMILY
 The Second Sunday in Lent (C)
07 March 04


 

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.

 

 

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