How Inviting Is Your Confessional?

The dreaded screen.

Around this time of year, older Catholics like my mother talk about fulfilling their Easter Duty.  By that they mean going to confession at least once a year (although just about every priest I've ever met would say we need to partake in the sacrament of reconciliation much more often).

The thought of going to confession for the first time created a lot of anxiety in me despite the fact that our CCD teachers and priests did a great job explaining how important the sacrament of reconciliation was.  Instead of using the church's confessional, Fr. Kiley had chosen a quiet room that was normally used as a staging area before Mass.  As my fellow CCD classmates went in one by one, I grew more nervous even though we were told our priests would not judge or keep score.  When I entered the room, Fr. Kiley was sitting with his back turned to me which I found odd because he had encouraged us to confess our sins face to face if we wanted to.  At such a young age, my transgressions must have seemed very benign to him.  When I left the confessional, my soul felt much lighter, but the experience was too nerve-wracking to make it a regular habit.

When my mother wanted us to fulfill our Easter Duty, we usually visited the Carmelite Chapel at the Northshore Shopping Center since it was open during the week.  The place had several traditional confessionals which consisted of two booths for parishioners with the priest in a middle booth.  He would slide back a screen on either side to talk to us.  A little red cross above the confessional door lit up whenever someone inside used the kneeler.  The thought of going brought a sense of dread and once inside the confessional, my anxiety only increased.  I could hear the muffled conversation of the priest and the parishioner on the other side as I waited for that dreaded screen to slide open.

My priests always made a great case for confession.  One pastor liked to say, “If you think you don't need to go to confession, you really need to go to confession.”  By that he meant sometimes we can become spiritually lazy without even knowing it.  Another priest compared sin to garbage that weighs us down and the confessional was the surest way to make our souls feel 100 pounds lighter.  We were told not to be embarrassed when we confessed our sins because priests have heard it all and they only cared that you were participating in the sacrament of reconciliation.  Despite all this, I've rarely gone to confession as an adult because I'm just too shy.  In fact, it's one of the only things about the Church that this normally devout Catholic has a problem with.  While it's no excuse for not going, I do ask God for forgiveness during my nightly prayers and sometimes during the day when I've really screwed up.  However, there have been occasions when I couldn't avoid the confessional.

A couple of times, my mother and I have completely forgotten a Holy Day of Obligation.  One time our pastor was really cool and heard my confession right on the spot just before Mass, although when my list of sins seemed too short for him, he asked, “Is that it?”  The remark was really off-putting and had me wondering if I needed a little more excitement in my life.

The other occasion actually marked my very first time attending regular confession hours at St. Mary Star of the Sea in Beverly after having been a parishioner there for over a decade.  This house of worship lacked confessionals so you had to go downstairs to the lower church and then enter the sacristy to meet with the priest.  The place was packed and when it was my turn, I tried to make a good confession.  I mentioned swearing and telling the occasional white lie, but I also included lust, anger, spiritual laziness and my lack of faith.  I was really trying to be sincere but when it came time for my pastor to absolve me of my sins, he said I had “lucked out”.  Since the crowd was so big, he needed to keep things moving along and would only give me a few prayers to say for penance.  I was very disappointed by his response because I was not looking for a short cut.  In fact, I wanted to discuss my sins in greater detail since they were manifestations of the conflicts in my life that I just didn't know how to resolve on my own.   The whole incident left me feeling cold and I've never been back to confession ever since.

This April, my mother wanted to fulfill her Easter Duty yet again so it was off to the Carmelite Chapel.  A group of friendly and well-meaning priests from India now run the place but as I sat next to my mother in the pew waiting for her to enter the confessional, I just couldn't muster enough strength to follow her lead.  What would I say that I didn't already talk to God about?  What would change after I confessed my sins?  Why couldn't I meet with a priest face to face in a comforting setting instead of this claustrophobic booth with only a disembodied voice to talk to?

During Lent, the Boston Archdiocese encourages all of us to go to confession and they even advertise extended hours in church bulletins with their The Light Is On For You campaign.  As I sat waiting for my mother to leave the confessional, part of me really wanted to participate so I could fully embrace my Catholic faith.  But the part of me that's too shy, too anxious, too hurt and too broken always keeps me from opening that door.