Rediscovering the Sacrament of Reconciliation
One day, a couple of years ago I had two appointments to
keep in London. I was going to have a little time to spare, so I asked myself
how I might best fill the time. Some people would probably say that I should
have gone shopping; but my itinerary didn’t really allow long enough for a
decent shopping spree, and anyway I’m a Yorkshireman, so I didn’t want to spend
any money!
It occurred to me that I was due to make a confession. What
better place to do it than London? With so many famous Anglo-Catholic churches,
there was bound to be somewhere with a set time for hearing confessions where I
could slip in and out anonymously.
Just for interest, I picked up my copy of ‘The Church
Travellers Directory 1973’ – which some of my readers will doubtless remember
with great affection. It listed the churches in which at that time there was a
Daily Mass, indicated by a letter D, where the main Sunday Service was always a
Mass indicated by an S, where Confessions were heard regularly at fixed times,
indicated by a C and where the Blessed Sacrament was perpetually reserved
indicated by the letter R. Not surprisingly, when I turned to the section
marked ‘London Postal District, I was greeted by page after page of churches
all with ‘DSCR’ emblazoned proudly against them.
Of course I needed some more up-to-date information, so I
got onto the internet and started scouring the websites of likely churches. To
my dismay, I discovered that with the honourable
and predictable exception of All Saints, Margaret Street, none of the well-known
‘shrines’ were advertising regular confession times. Some said, ‘Confession
available by appointment’ with a telephone number, whilst others, including to
its shame, St Alban's Holborn, made no mention at-all of the sacrament.
In terms of both time and location, Margaret Street wasn’t
going to work for me on this occasion, so I decided to grasp the nettle, choose
a parish church and phone the priest to make an appointment. I had never met
the priest to whom I spoke, although I had heard him give an address once. He
was very open and welcoming and positively effusive when he heard the reason
for my call. “How wonderful that you want to make a confession. It will be a
joy and a privilege”. At the end of our
conversation, he made a quip about needing to dust-off the confessional before
I arrived.
All of this confirmed what I already knew – that
sacramental confession is in serious decline within the Church of England. It’s
always been a bit of a niche market within Anglicanism, but the picture isn’t
much different in the Roman Catholic Church. Some surveys indicate that in the
United Kingdom and USA as few as twelve percent of practising Roman Catholics
ever make a confession, and in many of those cases they do so only once a year.
For me, this raises three questions:
- · Why has it happened?
- · Does it matter?
- · If it does matter, what can be done about it?
I suspect there are several closely inter-connected reasons
for the decline in the hearing of confessions:
1. Confession
is obviously linked to the concept of sin. Talking about sin isn’t
‘fashionable’ in today’s church. Most of us prefer to talk about the love and
grace of God, (although I would argue that you can’t talk about one without
talking about the other).
2. Patterns
of individual piety have changed considerably over the last few decades. Even
in the most Catholic of parishes, there are few people who are now inclined and
able to attend Mass every day, and I’m told that even the great Anglo-Catholic
shrines of London find it difficult to attract sufficient worshippers to make an
evening sung mass on a Saint’s Day viable. The modern lifestyle militates
against this, and church-based activity has become more and more focussed on
the main Sunday service alone.
3. We
live in an age in which independence is
highly valued and encouraged. Those involved in any kind of caring work seek to
empower their service users to live as independently as possible, and rightly
so. Whether consciously or subconsciously, our tendency to independence may
prompt us to say that we don’t need to make our confession sacramentally to a
priest; we can do it on our own at home or as we say the prayer of penitence
with our fellow worshippers at the beginning of Mass. That’s all true of
course; but is it equally true of all of us? I shall return to this shortly.
4. The
sordid history of abuse in both the Roman Catholic and Anglican churches has
undermined the trust that people place in their clergy. The confessional is
perceived as a place where the penitent makes himself or herself vulnerable,
and priestly authority might be abused. I’m not talking about sexual abuse
here, but I’m acknowledging the common perception that ‘Catholic Guilt’ can be
used manipulatively. (Actually, I think the same is true of Protestant guilt, but I won’t go into that
now.)
5. Finally,
I think we clergy have unconsciously colluded with this trend, giving up on set
times for hearing confessions thus making their decline a self-fulfilling
prophecy. Again, I shall come back to this.
So, does it matter?
Well, it certainly matters to me; not so much as a priest
but as a regular penitent.
Some of my readers will already know that despite my
current churchmanship, I was evangelically ‘converted’ to Christianity in my
late teens. There was a definite moment
when I realised how much God loved me and when I recognised that I needed God’s
love and forgiveness and offered him my life. It brought about seismic changes
in my life, and throughout my subsequent Christian journey, I’ve needed to
regularly reconnect with that moment. Sometimes this happens in the Mass; often
it happens during the rites and ceremonies of Holy Week; but the place where it
happens most dramatically and consistently is in the confessional.
No matter how awkward or embarrassed I may feel as I await
my confession, afterwards I invariably feel a sense of renewal, healing and joy
that is almost impossible to describe. That’s why I welcome the recent change
from the name ‘Confession’ or even worse, ‘Penance’ to ‘Reconciliation’. It’s a
reminder that the sacrament doesn’t focus on sin and shame, but rather on the
love and grace of God and on the great rejoicing in Heaven over one sinner who
repents.
I was first introduced to sacramental confession by the
priest who prepared me for Confirmation, following my conversion. He explained
the traditional Anglican view of making a confession that ‘All may, some
should, none must.’ I quickly realised
that I was probably in the ‘some should’ category – not, I hasten to add,
because my sins were particularly heinous – but rather because I’d never been
very good at forgiving myself or ‘letting-go’ of past mistakes. (I’m still
not!) That priest also said that he thought everyone should know about the
sacrament and should ideally make at least one confession so that they would
know what to do, how it would feel and so on if they ever needed the
confessional in the future. I remember him saying, “If you ever feel totally
lost and have abandoned God and left the church and are in need of a way back,
the confessional is a really good way back in.”
So because some
should, and because it is a good
way back in, I think it’s important that the church should rediscover the Sacrament
of Reconciliation.
So, what can we do to enable this to happen?
First, we should lead by example. Archbishop Justin Welby -
who’s hardly a dyed- in-the-wool Anglo-Catholic - has made it known that he regularly makes his confession and
wants to encourage others to do so. Good for him; and we should be doing
likewise.
Second, we should give clear and confident teaching about
confession.
A few months ago I ran an Adult Confirmation Course and
opened it up to some of the ‘old-hands’ in our congregation who wanted some
sort of ‘refresher’. One of the ladies in the group is an avowed protestant,
fiercely opposed to anything that she perceives as being ‘high church’. (She
makes no secret of the fact that I drive her mad much of the time!) As you can
imagine, there was much tut-tutting and heaving of bosoms when I started
talking about Confession. She wasn’t at-all swayed by the ‘some should’
argument and insisted that confession should only ever be made to God. So I
explained to her that although we often carelessly (and unhelpfully) use the
shorthand, ‘Confessing to a priest’, the reality is that we confess to God, in the presence of a priest. I went on
to describe the traditional set-up of the confessional in Anglican circles –
with the penitent facing a crucifix and looking directly at the crucified
Christ as he or she confesses, and with the priest sitting sideways on,
‘listening in’, not in a voyeuristic way, but rather in order to help and to advise.
To my amazement, when my protestant lady heard this she said, “Oh well that’s
alright. I don’t have a problem with that at-all.” So, we need to get the teaching right and to
dispel the many myths that surround the subject.
Third, we need to make people’s experience of confession as
positive, and grace-filled and joyful
as possible. How do we do this?
First of all, we must obviously set the penitent at ease.
If they don’t seem to know what they’re doing or if they say it’s their first
time, it’s the job of the confessor to guide them gently through the experience
and to be as reassuring as possible.
Then we need to listen carefully to what the penitent says.
The confessor may well be presented with a rather stark list of sins, but he or
she should be listening for clues as to where God’s healing and grace is most
needed in this person’s life. I’ll give an example in a few moments.
It’s also important that the confessor doesn’t express any
sense of shock or outrage.
Our tutor at Chichester Theological College who led
sessions on confession told us how he had been trained to hear confessions many
decades earlier at St Stephen’s House, Oxford. There they had apparently created
a mock-up confessional and did a role-play, usually with a tutor playing the
penitent and some poor student being the confessor, while the rest of the
tutorial group observed critically. On one famous occasion the pretend penitent
said, “Bless me father for I have sinned; I’ve had sex with an elephant.” As
the students observing fell about laughing, the student playing the priest
blushed visibly, broke into a sweat and was dumbstruck. As the awkward silence
went on, the tutor became more and more exasperated until he eventually
exploded, “Oh for God’s sake man aren’t you at least going to ask me what sex
the elephant was?”
It’s not unusual for confessors to worry about what advice
they’re going to give to a penitent. I used to worry endlessly that I wouldn’t
be able to think of something wise and helpful to say, until my Spiritual
Director said to me, “Hey, the penitent is baring his or her soul in your
presence and all you can do is worry about what you’re going to say; and in any
case, where’s your faith in the Holy Spirit?” He was right of course. God does
supply the words.
I remember one priest – with whom I didn’t get on
particularly well – who would sometimes say something that sounded really wise
and sensible, then he would completely undermine it by saying something totally
crass immediately afterwards. I remember him talking about confession and
saying, “The confessional isn’t a counselling room; it’s a dustbin. People
don’t come to contemplate their navel and talk for hours; they come to dump the
rubbish of their lives.” I thought that made a lot of sense; but then he said,
“……so I don’t ever say anything in the confessional. I let them spill the
beans, then I give them their penance, declare absolution and send them on
their way.”
But to do that is not only to risk making the penitent feel
very uncared for, but it’s also to fail to provide what the penitent asks for
in the traditional rite, ‘penance, advice and absolution’. Part of caring for the penitent is ensuring
that they’re truly sorry; that they’ve made amends wherever possible and then
giving them advice and encouragement so that they can hopefully avoid repeating
some besetting sin. There needs to be some interaction, however minimal.
I do have to say that the worst confessors I’ve ever had
were the out-and-out liberals. They tried desperately to persuade me that every
one of the sins to which I confessed wasn’t really a sin at-all, or if it was, it
was a very understandable one and therefore nothing to bother about. Casuistry might
have ruled okay in their minds – but it didn’t bring any comfort to my troubled
soul.
That said, of course there are times when it may be helpful
to explain to a penitent that something they’ve confessed to isn’t really a
sin. Some penitents get very hung up about some of the temptations they battle
with. But unless they’ve deliberately
wallowed in or fed the temptation, if they’ve overcome it, it’s probably
appropriate to say, “This isn’t a failure
that you need to confess; this is a success
that you should be celebrating”. People sometimes need reminding that although Jesus
was without sin, he certainly knew (and knows) what it is to be tempted!
One of the things I quickly noticed as a penitent was that
some confessors appeared to count my sins on their fingers as I went along. This is actually a handy aide-memoir
so the confessor remembers what he or she needs to come back to when giving
advice; but it can look as if they’re keeping score, and at one time I did
think that I must never confess to more than ten sins per confession otherwise
I’d confuse the poor priest.
In any event, I don’t think it’s necessary - or even
helpful - to talk about every single sin; it’s better to look for any
underlying pattern that needs addressing. For example, you’re hearing the
confession of a man in his early thirties. His confession includes the
following:
·
He’s slightly ‘massaged’ some sales figures in
a report to make his work performance look better.
·
He’s ‘walked on’ some of his colleagues at work
in an attempt to get promotion before them.
·
He’s not spent enough time with his wife and
kids and they’re feeling neglected.
·
He’s had a few outbursts of temper recently and
his driving has been aggressive and fast.
·
He’s drinking too much and not eating
healthily.
Now clearly this is a classic
case of someone whose work/life balance is out of kilter. He’s being driven by
the need for earthly status and material success and in doing so he’s damaging
relationships with his colleagues, with his family and even with himself
because he’s putting himself under stress and neglecting self-care. I believe that’s
the theme that would need exploring in the confessional, and I would suggest
that this man needs to be helped to rediscover the love of God, whose love is
total and unconditional and doesn’t need to be earned.
That brings me to the question
of the giving of a penance. When someone has reflected on their life, repented
of their sins, made amends wherever possible, resolved to try to do better in
the future, the giving of a penance often seems to me to be a strange, almost backward
step in the process. I think there’s a danger that it can imply that God hasn’t
done His stuff, and it can undermine the belief that forgiveness and healing
has been given. So I always try to make the ‘penance’ an ongoing part of the
reconciliation and healing process; so rather than saying “Go and say three Our
Fathers and five Hail Mary’s” (the point of which I’ve never really understood)
I’ll suggest instead that the penitent should read a certain psalm or hymn that
highlights how God’s grace operates – and hopefully something with which they
can connect in relation to the underlying ‘themes’ of their confession; so it’s
essential to have a repertoire of
biblical passages, hymns and psalms on which you can draw for this purpose.
When I talk with priests who
haven’t yet heard confessions, I always suggest that the best way to learn to
be a good confessor is by having lots of practice at being a penitent. In any
event I’m a firm believer in the principle that no priest should ever hear a
confession unless he or she regularly makes a confession. It’s in taking the
role of the penitent that we learn best what works and what doesn’t.
One of the tricks I learnt
from a confessor once was to get to the end of the list of sins, finish giving
any advice and then say, “Is there anything else you want to mention under the
seal of the confessional?” More often
than not there isn’t; but sometimes something will have occurred to the
penitent during the course of the confession, or sometimes a penitent may have
consciously or sub-consciously ignored something that they feared might be too
hot to handle. It’s a bit like the patient who goes to the Doctor saying, “My
arthritis is acting up” and then at the end of the consultation casually says,
“Oh while I’m here, could you just have a look at this lump I’ve found?” The
presenting problem isn’t always the full story; nor are the presenting sins
always the full story. Sometimes the process of confessing enables the penitent
to plumb greater depths and to open up more, so it’s important to give that opportunity,
just in case.
Most important of all, of
course, is the Seal of Confession – the absolute guarantee of secrecy. Recent
issues around safeguarding have caused some people to question whether the seal
should be required to be broken where sins regarding abuse of children or
vulnerable adults are confessed.
This suggestion shows a woeful
lack of understanding on several counts.
First, the penitent is, as I’ve
already said, confessing to God. What they are sharing belongs to the Almighty,
not to the Confessor.
Second, there is no such thing
as a partial seal. If the seal can be broken – or is required to be broken – in
relation to certain sins, then there is in effect no seal at-all. Any assurance
given to a penitent that their confession will not be shared with anyone else
would be meaningless, whilst embarking upon an explanation of some sort of exemption
clause at the outset of the process would be both absurd and unpastoral. In any
event, an abuser who didn’t intend to mend his/her ways by seeking help with
their offending and wasn’t genuinely seeking God’s forgiveness would hardly make
a confession under these circumstances, whereas an offender who was wanting to
come to God in desperation could be discouraged from doing so, and may
therefore be less likely to seek help and more likely to re-offend.
Third, it is a requirement of
offering absolution that the priest who is ‘listening in’ is satisfied that
there is genuine repentance, that the penitent has done everything possible to
make amends for what (s)he has done, and that there is a genuine desire and intent
not to repeat the sin. Where the sin involves some form of abuse or any other serious
criminal activity, the proper response from the Confessor should be to explain
that true repentance will involve going to the police and seeking help to
ensure that the offence is not repeated. Indeed, the Confessor would have a
pastoral duty to accompany and assist the penitent in this process. If the
penitent refuses to do this, the Confessor can and should withhold absolution.
Well I’ve dealt with teaching
about the Confessional, I’ve talked a bit about how to make confession a positive experience, and explored
what the Seal of Confession means, but I want to go full circle and end where I
began.
I’m a priest. When I had to
ring a priest to ask for some of his time to hear my confession, I felt awkward
and hesitant. How much more awkward would a lay person have felt? How often do
we, as clergy hear those damming words, “I didn’t like to bother you because I
know how busy you are”?
Effective ministry has to
include what I call ‘the ministry of availability’. I think that’s especially
true of the Sacrament of Reconciliation.
If the Church is to rediscover this sacrament, we need to re-instate it
as a regular, fixed, advertised part of the church’s life.
I’ve heard clergy say, “I’m
not going to waste time sitting around in church waiting for people who are
never going to appear”. I understand the sentiment, but a regular confession
slot, whether it’s weekly or monthly need only be for half an hour. If people
come in that time, you stay until the job’s done. If no-one comes, you go home
after the half hour. During the half
hour, you can read, think or pray – things that too easily get pushed out of
the busy clerical day; and while you’re there, even if no-one comes, you’re
still exercising a ministry of availability. How can all of that possibly be a
waste of time? They also serve who only sit and wait!
If you don’t think you’ll get
penitents, widen the scope a bit; in my second curacy parish we had Benediction
every Saturday evening at 7.00pm and at 7.30pm we advertised “Confession,
Spiritual Counsel or just someone to listen”. People came; some to confess,
some just to talk – and they all knew that it had to be about spiritual or
pastoral matters not the flower rota or the next PCC meeting!
During Lent a couple of years ago,
when we had Stations of the Cross on a Friday evening at 7.00pm, as an
experiment I advertised the fact that the church was open and I was there from
6.15 for confession or spiritual counsel. On the first week, the first of
several penitents was kneeling at the confessional at 6.20pm. One or two folks
just came to pray quietly; of those who came to confession, two of them hadn’t
been to confession for many years. When I asked why this was they simply said,
“There wasn’t really any opportunity.” This
was despite the usual ‘Confessions by appointment’ notice in the parish
magazine and on the website. If we believe in the Sacrament of Reconciliation,
we have to create the opportunity.
When I first went to
Walsingham with a weekend parish pilgrimage about thirty years ago, on the
Saturday evening, after all the liturgical shenanigans, there were half a dozen
or so of us in the shrine church waiting to make a confession to one or other
of the shrine clergy who were in the two confessionals there.
Nowadays on Saturday evenings
in Walsingham I gather that people often have to queue to make their
confession, and there are priests in all sorts of nooks and crannies hearing
confessions. Contrary to popular belief, the sacrament isn’t dead. Okay, there is
something rarefied about being on retreat or pilgrimage that makes people more
open to Reconciliation; maybe what we
parish clergy need to do is to learn from that and to recreate something of
that feeling, so that confession becomes once again part of the lifeblood of
the church and one of the key ways in which the share the Good News with God’s
people and enable them to lead a new life in Christ.
© Fr Trevor Thurston-Smith SMMS
November 2018
(Based
on a paper delivered to the Leicester Chapter of the Society of Catholic Priests in
April 2015)
Thank you for a great post! I tell people that I regularly receive this Sacrament to (hopefully) promote more use of it.
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