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.

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