Examination of Conscience–Part 1

Bless me Father for I have sinned. It has been over 20 years since my last confession.”

Well…I know he doesn’t hear that every day! But then again, maybe he does.

As a Protestant it was drilled into my head that I needed no mediator between me and God to confess my sins. I was told how a mere priest could not forgive sins. I was told that God would cleanse me and give me a pure heart. That confession was not necessary and just another lie of the Catholic Church I had been duped into believing. Penance was a man made contrivance to earn my salvation.

So, why did I go back? Why did my soul long for confession?

Look with me at the statements above.

I need no mediator between me and God. That isn’t exactly true. I need Yeshua/Jesus/the Lamb that was slain. I need His perfect Blood to atone for my sins. I need to make a choice to accept that gift.

As a Protestant I often knew I was sinning. I often felt a guilt and often remorse for what I did. I would come before the altar on Sunday and weep and then go out the doors and do the things I hated all over again. Was I grieving the LORD by my actions? I think so. Will I do better as a returning Catholic? I am not sure. But maybe. I come to the confessional and proclaim my sins out loud. Heavens the laundry list is long. When I say out loud for God and someone else to hear it takes a different meaning in my heart.

A mere priest cannot forgive sins. Nope. They cannot. This is a true statement. Only God can forgive our sins. So why the bother? Again, I go and I announce out loud to a (hopefully) objective and compassionate listener that I have sinned against God, my family and my fellow man. This mere man can see if there is visible signs of repentance. No he doesn’t “know my heart” but trust me, no one willingly goes to private confession just for fun.

I am thinking maybe in fifth grade I was more “doing my duty” that really feeling remorse. “Bless me Father for I have sinned, I yelled at my sister three times, I rolled my eyes behind my mother’s back and I was mad at my dad twice.” “Oh and I told a lie in class.” But for that brief and blessed time those were the sum total of all that was sinful in my life. To be there again.

For me to return to the Church, to return, even more importantly to me, to the Eucharist, I needed to hear myself say I was sorry for what I had done. To acknowledge what was keeping me from partaking from the communion table was me and my pride. I needed to say that. Out loud. To someone else. And the relief that filled my heart after I did was so huge, the weight that left my shoulders was tangible. That evening to receive Holy Communion, the Body and Blood of Our LORD, again after years away was so sweet.

If the need for confession is a lie, I cannot find where it says that. Perhaps the means of confessing doesn’t have to be the same for everyone, but to make a physical act, a conscious choice to step out of my comfort zone and visit with someone who devotes their life to God is a blessing. Perhaps if we called it visiting with an “accountability partner” it would be more palatable. I don’t know. But I do know any time I have had an “accountability partner” I have held back. I have always felt that if I told them everything on my heart they would turn away. Never have I felt that in the confessional. So duped I remain, I guess.

It was during my brief time visiting an Eastern Orthodox church that I became heavily convicted of the need for confession. My Orthodox friends can correct me if I am wrong about this, but it is my understanding that Orthodox confession differs from Catholic confession because the Orthodox priest and penitent stand side by side in front of an icon of Christ and confession is made. Side by side. In front of the reminder of the One who paid the ultimate price. As opposed to the Catholic form of behind the screen or face to face. I really like that image. But this was where I knew that at some point I would have to return to confession and admit I could not walk the road alone.

Penance. That word I think is a real stumbling block to those not raised or familiar with the Catholic Church. Ten Our Father’s, two Glory Be’s and a few Hail Mary’s will not earn my way to heaven. My salvation was paid on the Cross at Golgotha. But think about this, if I get a speeding ticket, what happens? I pay a fine. If my child is disobedient they receive a reprimand or a punishment. Yes, Jesus paid the ultimate price. No amount of prayer will change that. But some time on my knees might give me pause to think about what I’ve done. And hopefully not repeat my offence. I am not so naïve to think I won’t sin again, but maybe the reminder of “accountability” will help me to move forward with better habits.

I noticed even before I left the Catholic Church so long ago that there was a trend with many priests to give a more personal penance than a set number of prayers. In the past I received some of those. Perhaps it was to verbally apologize to someone I had wronged. Perhaps it was to read a portion of appropriate Scripture. Perhaps it was to allow myself to receive the forgiveness that my pride had convinced me I did not deserve. To take the gift that was freely offered.

Part II will share some of what I considered in the weeks leading up to my return to the Sacrament of Confession, the true examination of conscience.

~ by throughadarkglass on October 7, 2007.