Wednesday, August 9, 2000
Wednesday, August 9, 2000 |
| "I
confess..." Msgr. Thomas J. McSweeney The act of confessing one's sins to a priest has long been a source of confusion and suspicion for many non-Catholics. I still remember my Anglican mother helping me learn the answers to the many questions Catholic boys and girls memorized from the Baltimore Catechism, a summary of the principles of Catholicism in Q&A form. She would nod approvingly when I recited each word-perfect response. But when we got to the section dealing with the Sacrament of Penance, mom asked a question of her own. “This is the one part of being Catholic that I don't understand. I was raised to confess my sins directly to God,” she puzzled, “because no one can act as a go-between for me and the Father when it comes to Divine forgiveness.” Over the years the question would come up every so often, but it wasn't until I myself became a priest and began to hear confessions that I grasped the weight of her question and its answer. Next to celebrating Mass, hearing confession is the most humbling yet affirming task of my priestly ministry. Humbling because I know, as did my mom, that no individual has the power to forgive sins. This power belongs to God alone. Yet, in His wisdom, God can and does forgive others through me. Hearing confession is affirming in the sense that I am privileged to see and feel God's grace at work. Aquinas taught that grace builds on nature. The penitent, recognizing an action as wrong, is actually upholding what is right. In asking for forgiveness the penitent actually restores the norm or standard that was knowingly violated. In effect, the penitent is at once the accuser, the person accused and the witness to the truth of his or her failure. God's forgiveness is an act of love, not of blindness. Love sees wrong and names it. It does not ignore it or call it something else or claim that it is not important. Confession meets this deep need of human nature head on. It is as if the penitent looks squarely in a mirror and truthfully acknowledges, “Yes, I was wrong to do what I did and I want to stop doing it. I want to do good and be that much closer to God.” As priest I merely assist this moment of self-awareness and honesty so as to make reconciliation with God complete. The act of forgiveness takes the penitent's personal dignity seriously. Indeed, for me, the most exciting moment takes place when I get to announce, “My friend, God delights in your being here today, God is honored by your honesty! You are clearly a person of good character and virtue, or else you would not have been courageous and faithful enough to confess. You are forgiven!” The difference between the beginning of the confession and the end is palpable. Distress, anxiety and loneliness are transformed into a peace of mind and soul too wonderful for words. As I write this, I am just a few hours from hearing confession at Saint Patrick's Cathedral in Manhattan. The confessions I have witnessed provide overwhelming evidence of human goodness and God's grace. There is no joy on earth quite like that moment that I know I will have today—being present as other souls restore meaning and purpose and direction to their lives. For a free copy of
The Christopher News Note,
|
