Underselling Confession

Mr Chalk looks at the Sacrament of Confession and discusses a new book on contemplation by Fr Thomas Joseph White, OP, a member of the Hillbilly Thomists bluegrass band.

From Crisis

By Casey Chalk

I would say that even for those Catholics who regularly frequent the sacrament of penance, there is a tendency to obscure what’s actually taking place in the confessional.

The Catholic parish geographically closest to our home is huge, with more than 13,000 parishioners, according to the diocesan website. It has confession once a week for half an hour. Let’s say (very generously) that because of age or other reasons only 3,000 of those parishioners are able to participate in the sacrament of penance and that the priests are so efficient at hearing confessions that they can do one every three minutes. If there were always two priests hearing confession, that would mean only about a third of eligible parishioners at the parish go to confession once a year, the canonical mandatory minimum for Catholics. Frankly, I think the number is far, far lower.

I do not acknowledge this unfortunate fact to shame anyone (well, maybe a little). Though the sacrament of penance undoubtedly induces its fair share of shame, both in thinking about how long it’s been since you last went, as well as the catalogue of transgressions you are obligated to awkwardly tell a man through a small grate, that’s actually the opposite of its intended purpose. It is, after all, called a “sacrament of healing” and a “celebration.” It ends with thanksgiving (CCC 1480). It reconciles us to God and the Church, and it remits eternal punishment incurred by mortal sins (CCC 1496). And yet so many avoid it.

There are many reasons for this, beyond the simple fact that it is embarrassing and can feel humiliating to tell another soul that you committed various sins, especially if you have hidden those sins from most everyone, if not everyone. Certainly, many Catholics, including (unfortunately) many clerics, have downplayed the necessity of regular confession. When your priests only offer confession once per week for 30 minutes or an hour, they are implicitly communicating something to parishioners about the relative importance of that sacrament.

But I would say that even for those Catholics who regularly frequent the sacrament of penance, there is a tendency to obscure what’s actually taking place in the confessional. For myself, I’m often tempted to look at confession in legalistic or transactional terms: I go into the little room, quickly acknowledge my failings, get absolution and perhaps a little advice, and then I can once again have confidence that I am in a state of grace, united to Christ my savior. Rarely would I describe myself as excited to go to confession (though I’m always glad I went).

As Thomas Joseph White, O.P., argues in his excellent new book Contemplation and the Cross: A Catholic Introduction to the Spiritual Life, that perspective is deeply insufficient, if not wrongheaded. To understand why, we must first ensure we have properly understood our calling as human beings, and particularly as Christians.

Human beings, writes Fr. White, “must find themselves ultimately through their vocation to become contemplatives, those who know and love God and all things in light of God.” I think that idea is difficult for many to accept, whether one is a practicing layman or someone who considers himself an intellectual capable of reflecting on deep and abstract things. To be a contemplative seems to imply a religious vocation. Yet defining the contemplative life that way can’t help but create a distance between us and God, for who but a small subset of the population routinely “think big thoughts” or can give hours every day to quiet prayer?

In truth, everyone’s ability to think and pray means they are a contemplative, at least in potentiality. Fr. White writes that we all 

move like planets or satellites around a distant unknown sun, hoping that its light may yet illumine us and that its fire may burn our hearts to the core, forever, like a furnace that will not only consume us but also preserve us, refine us, and make us our better selves. 

All of us, regardless of state in life, are drawn to the true, good, and beautiful, to feeling fully alive, to finding our home. As Christians, we believe that home is God. “You have made us for yourself, O Lord, and our heart is restless until it rests in you,” says St. Augustine.

More particularly, as Catholics we believe that we progressively feel that sense of a divine home through grace, which liberates us from sin, elevating our minds and hearts to greater things and helping us realize our true selves as unique creations of God. The Eucharist is, of course, the pinnacle manifestation of that grace in our world, the “privileged means and locus of contemplative conformity to the mystery of the Cross in the life of the Christian community,” writes Fr. White. In contemplating our participation in the mystery of the Eucharist, “we are united with the life of Christ, and the Holy Spirit causes us to participate in his mystical headship as living members of his corporate body.”

I think many of us, however inchoately, can appreciate how the Eucharist draws us deeper into fellowship with Christ—He mystically feeds us with His very self. We, in turn, thank Him for His perfect offering of love on the Cross in which He died for our sins, and we ask Him for the grace to follow Him well, be it as lay or religious, married or single, parent or child. It’s visceral in a way everyone, regardless of intellectual ability or education, can comprehend.

We need to think similarly about the sacrament of confession—it is, after all, a sacrament, meaning it imparts grace. Fr. White speaks of the “contemplative practice of the sacrament of penance, that is, sacramental penance as an expression of contemplative friendship with God.” We can use confession “to become more radically present to the transcendent Father who forgives sins, more dependent only on Christ the Savior, and more docile to the inner teacher, the Holy Spirit.” Yes, we are confessing our sins to a priest, perhaps even a priest we know personally. But we are also confessing our sins to Christ—because the priest acts in persona Christi. Jesus is there, in the sacrament of confession, meeting us in a unique, powerful way.
Fr. White writes:

Penance is the occasion to belong to God only and totally, to let all other allegiances go so as to be only for the one God. That is freeing, and it is also the only approach to our own sinfulness that is based on truthfulness. 

In confession, we stop projecting a certain image of ourselves and admit the truth. As we bring all of ourselves to God when we receive the Eucharist, we are to bring all of ourselves to Him in confession, too. And, just as He meets us in Holy Communion with compassion and mercy, so He does in confession as well. This is no occasion for shame or condemnation. It is freedom and joy. In confession, we encounter love.

Perhaps many are inclined to view the confession line as a sign of misery: people feel terrible about themselves, and the Church dictates they go through a rote exercise in order to curb that feeling—until they mess up again and begrudgingly return. It seems almost manipulative. 

This is backward. Penance is the way to peace, rest, and becoming more fully ourselves. It is the means of defeating sin and finding Christ. It is where we admit who we truly are and discover that Jesus loves us anyway. Penance, our Catechism teaches us, is a celebration. For the good of our souls, and those of others, we must develop a habit of treating it as such. And it would help if our parish priests communicated through words and actions—especially as Advent approaches—that they view it the same way.