Confession tales

Not long ago I came across a 1986 letter to me from the diocesan vicar for clergy, appointing me the “visiting confessor” for the Sisters of Mercy motherhouse in Oakland.  The sisters have a chaplain who says daily Mass for the sisters, and does hear confessions.  But it is the wisdom of the church to also offer the sisters an “outsider priest” like myself for the sacrament of penance.  Five or six times annually I go to the big building next to Carlow University and hear the sisters’s confessions.  Twenty-five years is a long time to do anything.  On my most recent visit at the beginning of lent I checked the large poster in the main lobby, on which is a listing of all the Pittsburgh Sisters of Mercy who have died.  Over 175 sisters passed away during those 25 years. 

       This small milestone got me thinking about lessons I have learned from hearing the confessions of the sisters, and the nature of the sacrament itself.  When I first starting going, I was put in a small activities room, with opportunity for the sisters to talk with me both face-to-face and behind a screen.  Most seemed willing to go face-to-face, and at some point (I don’t remember when) the sisters stopped putting up the screen altogether.  In 1999 the sisters built a new chapel, and I have heard confessions in its modern confessional, which allows for privacy as well as room for the many sisters who come to me in wheelchairs.

       From the beginning I recognized that the ones who spoke to me face-to-face used different language than the ones who prayed behind the screen.  Face-to-face:  conversational, natural, telling stories.  Behind the screen:  stilted, rote, same sins as they told 40 or 50 years ago when they were in high school.  I admit that I liked it when the sisters went face-to-face.  I could “read” their facial expressions, and better hear the feelings behind their words.  Sometimes I would ask general questions like, “How are you doing?” or “What’s going on in your spiritual life?” and would be amazed at the depth of their answers. 

       This led to another lesson:  The sacrament of reconciliation is as much about the increase in virtue and holiness as it is about forgiveness of sin.  As you might imagine, most of the (increasingly elderly) sisters are not “big sinners.”  But it is to their credit that they come to confession.  Yes, they seek forgiveness from God for the times they failed to say their daily prayers or got angry at a fellow sister or motherhouse employee.  But more, they want to know that God loves them, that their good works are acknowledged and affirmed, and how they can grow in the virtues.  I have come to see these confessions as “holy conversations,” closer to the spiritual direction I received when I went on my 30-day retreat last summer.   These are privileged moments when the sisters allowed me a glimpse into their deepest “joys and hopes, grief and anguish.”

       Everyone who goes to confession is to be commended.  But I wish more of those who go behind the screen would try face-to-face, and share with the priest “what’s goin’ on” in their spiritual life.  Such holy conversations have the potential to be life-changing.