SINNING & SORROWING : Taking confession seriously.

When I was about to be ordained, it occurred to me that there was something particularly strange about the sacrament of confession. (I suppose this occurred to me because suddenly I would be in the position of having to hear confessions.) I had seen and participated in all the other sacraments in a public way; but the only confessions I had experienced were my own--private conversations with a priest, before God, but still, unlike any other sacrament, private.

In Commonweal's discussion of confession (February 23), I found two things curious. One was that the relationship of confession to baptism and our incorporation into the life of Christ was neglected; the other was that the history of the sacrament was ignored. The history is vital if we are to see how the sacrament assumed its present form, and if we are to find ways to make it a serious part of the Christian life.

The earliest Christians believed that in baptism we were joined to the life of Christ, and our sins were forgiven. Serious sin led to a separation from the community. In the second-century The Shepherd of Hermas we are told that someone who had sinned seriously was allowed a second chance, but only one. Some took the stance that no reconciliation was possible. This gradually gave way to a system under which those who had sinned seriously (the three great sins were murder, apostasy, and adultery, because they struck directly at the heart of the community) stood in a special place in the church, often wearing rags or skins, and were denied Communion for a specific, usually lengthy, period of time. At the end of the period of repentance they were reconciled, through a prayer offered by the bishop. Some sins led to lifelong excommunication. Saint John Chrysostom was unusual in his practice of accepting sinners back into communion after repeated falls, and he was harshly criticized (and eventually deposed) by other bishops.

At the same time, in the monastic movement--originally made up of lay people--monks were encouraged to confess to an experienced elder, confessing not only their sins but the whole of their inner life.

Confession of this sort was not only a way of repenting and being reconciled to the church; it was a way toward a deeper spiritual life, a way of drawing close to God. This stream of tradition was incorporated into the sacrament of confession, which for pastoral reasons gradually lost its public character. (One reason was that so many people found the public penances so harsh that people who should receive the sacrament were avoiding it.) Some people--perhaps the majority--still went to confession simply to receive absolution from their sins, but others saw it as an opportunity for spiritual direction.

Perhaps confession has fallen into disuse among many people because they no longer see sin in legalistic terms, but there are other reasons as well. Confession was too often seen as a necessary ticket to be punched before Communion, and its connection with baptism was lost. The point of confession--apart from the public penance done to reconcile serious sinners to the community--is this: if, in baptism, I am joined to Christ and my sins are forgiven, what do I do about the fact that I still hold grudges, quarrel, fail to help the poor, and so forth? In the early church people dealt with these problems through prayer and private acts of repentance, and through participation in the Eucharist. (In the Orthodox Church, Communion is given with the words, "The servant of God...is given the most holy and pure body and blood of our Lord God and Savior Jesus Christ, for the remission of sins and life everlasting.") As spiritual direction became a part of confession, it made sense to receive it as a means of dealing with less serious sins.

Unless confession's connection with the idea of baptism is restored, it will seem to be an empty routine for most people, particularly in the absence of spiritual direction. I know what a feeling of relief it can bring to people who have sinned seriously; but we have too little sense of the fact that all sin is serious. I like what Gustave Weigel, S.J., once said: the man who invented the distinction between mortal and venial sin must surely be in hell. In the Orthodox Church some priests insist on confession before every Communion; others ask people to confess during penitential periods, particularly Lent. But these confessions are often empty exercises, and it is essential for priests and people to see the sacrament as an opportunity for spiritual growth. This means that priests must themselves be serious about living a life grounded in prayer, which is much more than a life grounded in liturgy, though that too is essential.

Baptism is the sacrament from which the others flow, and it is only through attention to the theology of baptism that our sense of confession--and for that matter all the other sacraments--will be refreshed for us.