Ah, a heretic is pondering

Ah, a heretic is pondering the benefits of trying on some of those long-discarded traditions they dumped when they rid themselves of the Pope.

I happen to chair the Lenten Task Force at my Church and am responsible for putting on a program suitable to the season. The last couple years, we've had a series of lectures on various topics that has, frankly, left me rather unsatisfied. {...}This year, however, we are working on something different, a series of much more interactive, hands-on offerings, activities that are designed to actually aid people in the spiritual purification that is supposed to be the hallmark of Lent, leading up to the celebration of Easter. Our goal is to provide a number of different kinds of activity. One possibility is the erection of a labrynth, something that apparently has got quite trendy as a meditiation device, although it is too New Age-y for my taste. Another possibility is some plainchant or other musical offering. There is even talk of a rosary course. (No word yet on whether ecumenical outreach is going to extent to include sacrificing virgins with golden sickles under mistletoe-decked oak trees, but we're working on it.) But, keying off the professors remarks, the one that has caught my personal attention is the possible provision of confession. We undertake a general confession as part of our worship service every Sunday, of course, but it is generic and corporate, a prayer recited by the entire congregation. Here, we would be offering the opportunity for the kind of personal, one-on-one, priest-penitent experience of the Catholic Church. (I believe there is provision for this kind of confession within the Anglican tradition. I don't know if it is formally incorporated into Episcopalianism as well. I'll have to look this up.) I've never taken this kind of confession before. What is the form? Does one simply tell off the kinds of sin one has committed (pride, lust, envy)? Or does one give specifics (names, places, dates)? It strikes me that the advantage of this form is that, by requiring the confessing party to recite his or her own shortcomings in detail, it forces that person to come more honestly face to face with them, to accept guilt for them and to try to change for the better. The trouble I find with the general confession is that it is rote recitation of a generic formula. Unless one is really concentrating, it is easy to let the mind wander. And the RC's, at least, are very clear that simple recitation of sins, without the accompanying conscious effort of responsibility and atonement, is no confession at all and, if anything, leaves the person worse off than before.

I love it when I get to blather on about religion! Tee hee! Now, I understand about the communal confession thing. The in-laws are Protestant and as such I've been to a few services at the myriad denominations they've belonged to over the years. (They have been since I've known them, (in order) Methodist, Presbyterian, and now they're Methodist again. The sister-in-law and her family are Missouri Synod Lutheran because the other branch of Lutheranism was too liberal for their tastes). Yet, no matter what sect they're a member of this week, the communal confession part of their service never fails to surprise me. "You're a sinner, but we know you're sorry, hence you're forgiven! Now let's have communion!" If you happened to nod off for five minutes, you could conceivably miss the cleansing of your own soul. Even though I was educated in Catholic schools, we were never left to think that the history of Catholicism was perfect. Catholics had flaws and the Church had goofed, in other words, and here is x, y, and z examples to prove it. They were pretty objective, on the whole, I like to think. One of those goofs was the selling of indulgences, which ultimately led Martin Luther to post his 95 Theses on the door of his monastery in Worms. An indulgence, if you're not familiar, was purchased forgiveness. The Church---at that period in time, a viable nation-state who liked to conduct wars, replete with Popes who had expensive mistresses, etc.---was running short on moolah, so to raise some coin, they started selling the sort of forgiveness for sins that someone wouldn't be able to find in a confessional. This was so successful at bringing in coin, the Church decided to spread the practice to the common peasant. Priests, under orders from their Bishops, would concentrate on preaching that sin was everywhere and within everyone, telling their parishoners that salvation could be found---for a price. It was this that led Martin Luther to act: he saw the poor being frightened into handing over what little they had to fund what he believed were corrupt practices. Martin Luther had a point. Hence the Church excommunicated him and he started up his own Church. While the Church has apologized and admitted that selling indulgences was a bad thing(a few years too late if you ask me) this was what, I was taught, led the Reformation to start in earnest. Henry VIII might have split because he couldn't get a divorce from wives who wouldn't produce male offspring, but this was the issue that really got the ball rolling. Hence, in Luther's new church, confession was simplified and the temptation to use people's sins against them was removed. It was also, in my humble opinion, a move away from the individual and their struggle to find faith and keep it---despite the Church's reputation as a monolith---to one of finding safety in numbers. Given this acrimonious history---a history which not only tripped the Reformation, but the Inquisition and Counterreformation as well----I find it interesting that Robbo's wanting to bring Catholic style confession into his Episcopalian Church, even if it's only for a limited time. I also think it's great. Confession is one of the best parts about being Catholic, although I'm sure it doesn't seem like that to others. You're asking for forgiveness for your sins, but to get that absolution you have to confess your sins to begin with. That has to be scary for someone who's never actually had to do it before. Yet, it's one of the most spiritually fulfilling things you'll ever do as a Catholic because it shows you, once again, that the burden to be good is on you. The Church can only show you where Jesus' footsteps are, it's up to you to walk in them. In Catholicism, Confession is also called "The Sacrament of Reconciliation." This is the post-Vatican II description, but it's the same darned thing. It's important to realize, however, that it is a sacrament, just like baptism, confirmation, marriage or taking the Eucharist every Sunday. It's a biggie, in other words. It's a holy thing and one that is required of all Catholics to take. In fact, the sacrament of The Last Rites, or The Annointing of the Sick as it's called nowadays, includes confession as part of its ritual, so you can meet your maker with a clean heart. So, while it's still just a sacrament, Confession is not on equal footing with the other sacraments: it's also required before you can take any of the others, baptism excluded obviously. This is what allows for the "pure heart" you're required to take communion with. Though, nowadays, obtaining a "pure heart" takes a wee bit of work. First, you actually have to track down a priest to give this sacrament to you. There was a day and age when priests automatically set up shop in a confessional before each and every mass they performed. Not so anymore. My church has confession twice a week: for an hour on Thursday evenings and on Saturday mornings. That's it, unless you want to call the priest up at the rectory and set up a time. Priests have cut back on confession because Catholics have cut back on confession: people just don't go much anymore. For example, not to out my mom, but I know for a fact she hasn't been in ages, and the only reason I know this is because my dad---a weekly confession attendee---never fails to remind her of this and frets about her soul. He's one of the few people I know who always talks about confession as a good thing: most people I know who are Catholic don't like it because it reminds them of their faults. (See, Robbo: there are even new-agey Catholics!)I am one of these, I will admit, but in later years I've finally been able to see my Dad's "good for you" argument. As far as the technicalities of the procedure, well, it's actually a pretty simple thing. First off, you have a choice of whether to say your confession anonymously by hiding behind a screen, or you can say it "face to face", where you sit down with the priest and he sees your face and you see his. It all depends upon your preferences and if the church itself is equipped for such a thing, because a lot of older churches are not set up for face to face confessions. I personally like having a choice: it all depends upon what I'm confessing and who the priest is and if I like him and he likes me. Although, just as an aside, I must say, there's nothing more disconcerting than expecting to have a choice, wanting to opt for the screen and being forced to give your confession face to face. Highly nervewracking. You go into the box, it never starts off like in the movies. You never say, "Father, please forgive me it's been x number of day since my last confession." I've never said that to a priest. First off, they welcome you. Then they'll say a prayer--out loud---for the success of the confession: that they'll hear your confession with an objective heart and that you'll confess your sins in a heartful manner, or they might read some Scripture---or they may not do any of these things. Then you can either tell him how long it's been since you've been to confession or not. He may ask, he may not. Like most things within the Church: it all depends on the priest. Now we've come to the fun part because, as you'll have noticed, there's a lot of potential for sinning when you're a Catholic. The best guideline for deciding where you've sinned or not is to run through the Ten Commandments, and this is what we were taught. When I was a kid my big sin was "disrespecting my mother and father." Lying is also verboten, hence I confessed to that a lot as well. What's funny about this with children is that when you're young, you don't know what "adultery" is or what it means to "covet your neighbors wife," so a few kids I knew actually confessed to "adultery," just to make sure they'd covered all the bases. However, when you're confessing as an adult, things get a wee bit more complicated. After all, you're now able to sin in so many new and exciting ways, the priest might want to know about them. Hence they'll ask for specifics to put your sin in perspective. This is when you see it as a really good thing that your confession is sealed. As in the priest cannot divulge---ever---what you've said in the box. You're free to tell. You might be embarrassed to tell, but you're free to do so anyway. And, I might add, that if you've been harboring a secret, it's not only a relief to get it off your chest, it's also nice to have someone give you an outside perspective because it might not be as bad as you thought. Then comes judgment time: your penance. Depending upon the severity of your sins you might be sent to a monastery to kneel on cold floors for years to atone for your sins (well, not anymore, but it wasn't unheard of in the olden days) or you might be told to say a few decades of the rosary or maybe you'll get off with a few Our Father's and Hail Mary's. This is where you nod, accept your penance and they say an Act of Contrition, which attests to the fact that yes, you really are sorry for your sins and that you want forgiveness. Then the priest absolves you and off you go to say your penance. What's hard to describe is when you leave the box: I've always felt physically lighter when I've left. All those cliched descriptions about "relief washing over you" actually fit in this situation. You feel closer to God, too, because He understands you and loves you enough to forgive you your worst behavior, and you carry that with you for a time. Then, because you're a human being, hence automatically vulnerable to sinning, you'll forget about it and start sinning all over again. But that's the beauty of confession: it's always there for you: you can go back and confess again. I sincerely hope Robbo take up the challenge and sees if this is possible for his church. Like anything, confession involves risk: you have to out your flaws and be judged upon them. This is hard. But, as they say, where there are great risks, there are also great rewards to be reaped. Posted by Kathy at November 1, 2004 02:29 PM | TrackBack