Confession

I realized that Yeshua (Jesus) wants me reconciled with the Church. While I go Sunday's, I've not participated in other aspects. Confession within the church was one. This was a step I needed to take. I did go to Confession two weekends ago, but I have been remiss in sharing it.

I was still nervous that Saturday. I had prayed many times for guidance. It came via my husband. We talked a long time about why I have such a grudge against the Church. Unlike many who have been vocal against the Church, it's not the sex scandals with the Catholic priests. Some grudges have to do with the exclusion of women in the priesthood, perhaps dating back to my day when girls could not serve on the altar as they do now. But this morning, I have realized much of what I know of the Church stems from many years of Catholic school and a strict Catholic upbringing where I was forced to follow customs and observances with very little insight as to why they were done. I was simply told, because this is what we believe and what we do. Period. 

It's no wonder I rebelled and walked away once I reached adulthood.

When we got to church, I prayed again before getting in line. When I got into line at the confessional, I wasn't quite sure of the procedure. Instead of a line along one wall, there was a cluster of people sitting or kneeling in the pews near the confessional lights: a white light and a red light. So, checking my growing nervousness, I asked one of the women sitting there if she was waiting for Confession or for the Mass which was to begin right after. When she admitted she was waiting for Confession, I mentioned that I wasn't too familiar with how things were done and - sheepishly - admitted it's been 23 years since my last Confession. She smiled broadly and said, "Wow! Welcome back!" and then went over some things I needed to know.

I was told I was lucky for this particular priest was "easy." I am still not sure if she meant that he was easy to talk to or didn't give strict penance after the confession. While this woman was my age, there was another young woman, perhaps 14 - 16 years of age, that overheard our conversation. She added what she knew of the process. She mentioned that she prefers the face-to-face confession.

Face-to-face???

We told her confessional experiences from the old days, including my last time. The priest would sit in a box the size of a very small coat closet, no bigger than the door in width and only deep enough for a small wooden seat and his legs. Those who went to confession would go behind a dark heavy curtain, through which all others in line could hear the whispers of your confession. The room behind the curtain was VERY dark, it was akin in size to the priest's box. There was a wooden or cushioned kneeler (place where one would kneel) on either side adjacent the priest's box. When the confessional was vacated, the next in line would enter, draw the curtain closed behind them and kneel in the dark facing a metal mesh screen with a wooden panel between the screen and the priest. Some had a candle or tiny electric light over the Act of Contrition prayer taped to the wall beside the metal screen. But the light was covered in such a way that the light only shone down directly on the words. The rest of the tiny room was pitch blackness.

There the penitent would wait. One could hear the whispers of the priest and the one currently confessing their sins on the other side of the priest. It could be a long wait or a very short one. You never knew. You could also hear the shuffle of impatient feet outside the curtain sometimes. You waited... Not knowing... Wondering... Trying to remember everything you came to confess...

Then there was a sudden scrape of wood against metal sliders as the priest slid open the window on your side. You did not see a face. If your eyes were good, you might make out a silhouette through the metal bars of the screen. But mostly it was a dark prison cell; you were essentially in hell.

Some priests listened in silence, which made it seem all the more disapproving of your presence and the things you said. Others would sigh or make *tsk tsk* noises at you. I guess these were to make one ashamed of their sins and turn the person away from such behavior. It made me loathe to go to Confession. I found much more love, acceptance and "You can do better; take hold of my hand, and you can go beyond this" from confessing directly to Yeshua.

But I was told by the elder woman, things are much different now. Before she went in, she jokingly added that she's glad that she's ahead of me: less time to wait. I smiled and thanked her for her help. When she came out I jokingly quipped, "You didn't have to rush on my account." She smiled and laughed.

Then it was my turn.

They had built the new confessional at this church about a decade ago to accommodate handicapped people. Instead of the tiny boxes along the wall of the church, this was a short hallway off the church, nice and wide for a wheelchair. At the start, there were the two lights mentioned above. Red for occupied; white for available. At the other end of the hallway, there was a door to the left and a large window to the right. This was a plain glass window that looked out on the bushes and lawn outside the church, it was comforting. I swallowed, took hold of the doorknob and opened the door.

The room was the size of my home office - it wasn't this tiny box that I expected at all. About two-thirds of the way down the room, there was this wall-type partition that went halfway across the width of the room. On my side of the wall, there was a modern kneeler and metal screen with a white cloth covering it to conceal the priest sitting behind it. There no longer was the whispered conversations, the priest was simply waiting for me alone.

Instead of the dark room, all in the room was brightly lit where one could easily read. There was even flowers on either side of the kneeler. In the far corner, there was also a chair that one could sit in and face the priest. It looked comfortable, more as one would expect in a counselor's office rather than a confessional. 

I stood there for a moment, undecided what to do beyond simply closing the door behind me. Part of me wanted to bolt through the door and let the next one in instead. I don't know if the priest even realized I was still standing beside the door. He simply began the traditional prayer that started the confession ritual similar to when I was a small girl. Following tradition more than thought, I raced over the kneeler and knelt down. 

I started "Forgive me, Father, it has been 23 years since my last confession." I was about to recite all I was prepared to say, but I was interrupted. The priest actually started a conversation with me, starting with "Wow! Welcome back!" I smiled because that was the same response as the woman in line. 

Instead of sticking to the hidebound traditional confession, we actually started having a conversation. I told him why, after all this time, I decided to go back to confession. I mentioned that Yeshua - Jesus - wanted me to go back and reconcile with the Church. He didn't react as though this was strange. I mentioned some of the reasons I had grudges against the Church and the priest freely admitted the Church makes many mistakes in the 2,000 years it's been around. We are all human and not perfect.

I also mentioned that while I haven't been to confession at the church, I did confess directly to Yeshua. He was delighted that I continued to confess my sins and practice reconciliation in private at home. This surprised me and made me second-guess the concept the iron grasp of control the church wanted over people's lives. I also admitted to him that I've been stubborn and wrong to constantly hold on to these grudges over the years. It was in the past and I need to let go and move on, letting the grudges stay in the past. The priest admitted that in our lives, we all tend to think we have learned enough and want our independence, but years later we come back knowing there is still wisdom we can learn from our elders.

I did confess that I've lied as well as other things I have regretted. Then it was time for the priest to determine what would be my penance. This was the part I dreaded. What would be the sentence handed down for all the years away from the church, for all the sins I have committed since then? He simply told me to gaze upon the cross at the front of church and tell Yeshua, "Thank you for your Love." What? That's it??? No litany of prayers. No 100 rounds of the rosary? (I even had my rosary beads with me.) Just 10 statements, that I am thankful for His Love?

When we wrapped things up and it was time for the final prayer, he asked if I wanted to say one of my own. But I guess I was still tradition bound and opted to read the age-old Act of Contrition of my youth. Though through it, I will admit, I was still pretty astounded with the simple request. Maybe I did get off easy... Too easy...

But then the  miraculous and beautiful moment came. Unexpected as it never before happened in Confession. There was a weight lifted from my heart / from my soul, that I did not even know was there. I had grown used to it. It was lifted as the priest said the closing blessing. I was released. Truly released of the past in a way I cannot describe. It was lightening and beautiful. This wasn't punishment, it was release, reconciliation -- true FORGIVENESS. The past was truly released and gone.

On the way out of the confessional, the women who helped me before gave me the thumbs up and I returned it with a smile. I even suspect that perhaps she said a prayer for me as well. Then I noted that my face was wet. I was crying.

Since then, I admit I have lied (twice), and let a bit of laziness get the better of my actions. But for the most part, I'm doing OK. I'm still learning to get over the past grudges, but the dam of resistance is now cracked and crumbling. I also feel so very free.

Released of the past,
I can make a better future.
~ ESA