Wisdom of confessors

.. in 11 quick bites..

The Adulteress and St. Mary Magdalene

Today the Gospel reading was about the adulteress that was brought before Jesus in order to trap him (John 8:1-11). I was reminded of how the identity of this woman had often been conflated with St. Mary Magdalene. Then it struck me that whoever this woman truly was, this shameful past can be seen, in the end, as a cause for joy and rejoicing - not because such a past is in any way glorious, but the victory of mercy and repentance is. I think it is entirely human to dwell on a given moment but Christians are called to take a longer view. St. Josemaria Escriva refers to enlarging one's view until it is universal or Catholic. I think I need to start doing so in earnest, because I am often incredibly short-sighted. If the notion of sin should ever pop into my head, I should probably immediately think "Mercy!" Because, seen from the other end, sin really doesn*t have the last word. I must have read that from Mark Shea somewhere, or G. K. Chesterton. It is the sort of thing they had probably written about already. Not to mention, Jesus himself said this to the woman to tie off that dreadful episode: "Neither do I condemn you.. Go and sin no more." It slso seems fitting to point out these last words (among others) of his as he was dying: "Father, forgive them for they know not what they do."

Today is the feast of Holy Innocents

What would drive a king to order the slaughter of all male toddlers two years and under across a number of districts? What would drive his soldiers to carry out the deed amidst the objections and wailing of the mothers and fathers who are unable to stop the massacre? What did the bystanders do? What was going through their minds?
   And then one would ask: was God also a bystander? How could he let this happen? This is a tough one, but the answer can be as simple as this: it is his will that Herod, those soldiers, the parents of the victims and the other witnesses should have the freedom to act as they choose. They were, after all, made in his image and likeness, and so they had the power of their intellect as well as conscience, enough to know that murder was wrong. For God to deny Herod and the soldiers free will is to obliterate them as human beings. And since all human beings are capable of wrongdoing at various points in their lives, then the implications are not so limited as one might think.
    The first reading from St. John's first letter tells us that we all sin from time to time. He also tells us that in God there is no darkness. How then do we achieve communion with him if there is darkness in us each time we sin? He will not obliterate us, but he will forgive our sins. He provided the sacrifice in his mercy and love: Jesus Christ, the lamb of God. Through him, our sins can be forgiven if we acknowledge them. Even Herod could have been forgiven. As for the holy innocents, they are not abandoned to their deaths, for there is eternal life in heaven, and these innocents cannot have committed sin at that age.
    But today, a slaughter of innocent continues, as this reflection points out. What would drive fathers and mothers to abort their own child, or allow that of their grandchild, nephew, or niece? What would drive legislators to advocate for more abortions, locally and internationally, to the tune of over 40 million annually across the world? What would drive a doctor, sworn to provide healing and to do no harm, to perform the abortion despite knowing that the child is viable, or the very simple fact that even the embryo at day one is its own distinct being? What did bystanders do? What was going through their minds at what was occurring or about to occur?
    Today is the feast of Holy Innocents. Let us pray for an end to the slaughter, not by legislation, not by obliterating our free will, but primarily the conversion of our hearts, through Jesus Christ, our sacrifice and advocate.

Justice and Mercy

Don't you just love having one of those "aha!" moments? I had one while watching "Jesus of Nazareth" on DVD the other night. It was that scene when the case of the adulteress was brought before our Lord:

And the scribes and the Pharisees bring unto him a woman taken in adultery: and they set her in the midst, And said to him: Master, this woman was even now taken in adultery. Now Moses in the law commanded us to stone such a one. But what sayest thou? And this they said tempting him, that they might accuse him. But Jesus bowing himself down, wrote with his finger on the ground. When therefore they continued asking him, he lifted up himself, and said to them: He that is without sin among you, let him first cast a stone at her. And again stooping down, he wrote on the ground. But they hearing this, went out one by one, beginning at the eldest. And Jesus alone remained, and the woman standing in the midst. Then Jesus lifting up himself, said to her: Woman, where are they that accused thee? Hath no man condemned thee? Who said: No man, Lord. And Jesus said: Neither will I condemn thee. Go, and now sin no more.

The "aha" moment was not about the Lord's brilliant answer to the scribes and Pharisees. It was when I considered both how the Law of Moses did indeed prescribe capital punishment and how the Lord showed the woman mercy. It's easy enough to thus conclude that the Law of Moses was mistaken, but crashes into the wall of the Law being both inspired by the Holy Spirit and assured by the Lord's own words: "amen I say unto you, till heaven and earth pass, one jot, or one tittle shall not pass of the law, till all be fulfilled." (Matthew 5) Shocking as it sounds to 21st century Catholic sensibilities, there really is such a thing as mortal sin. But this is a death that the Lord does not take pleasure in, "but that the wicked turn from his way, and live" rather than die: for God is love. But the Lord is also just, and there is no other way to look at it: mortal sin is mortal, and that is the objective truth about the nature of mortal sin.

However, Christ is the Father's mercy. In him, justice is not set aside, but he himself expiates for the sin. When he said "He that is without sin among you, let him cast the first stone," that, too is truthful. Mortal punishment is merited by mortal sin, but no more is such punishment ours to mete out. It is his alone, and in his mercy and love, he metes it out on himself on the cross. His sacrifice is all the more incredible when we truly consider how our sins nailed him to that cross, and that this horrible death was our just punishment -- except that he took them from us unto himself instead.

And there is the "aha" -- and so we must pay earnest attention to our Lord's words to us: "Neither will I condemn thee. Go, and now sin no more." And in each mortal sin we commit, we must remember that the same death is earned, but the same mercy is offered to us, again and again. And if we persist in such sinfulness, how utterly ungrateful we are, and how cheap we make the sacrifice Christ made on the cross for us. Becoming then numb to the graciousness of this mercy, we risk scorning its worth in innocent blood, making us callous, devoid of gratitude and, in pride, greeting such mercy with contempt instead.

Lord, may I never scorn your mercy! May I cling to your cross tightly, and respond to you in love -- then do with me as you will, only never let me leave your wounded side!

Maundy Thursday

There really is something to be said about these preparations that we make for Easter, as Malcolm told me earlier tonight before the Mass. The forty days in the desert of Lent leading up to the Triduum -- which I mostly squandered, sadly -- sometimes, we get in such a hurry to reach the goal that we miss out on the journey. Now I don't buy the idea that the final destination is insignificant -- by no means, if we're talking about our Heavenly home. We have to consider that both that destination and the journey are of God -- or at least, they ought to be, if we surrender all to him.

Earlier I prayed the Stations of the Cross for the first time in many years. That was a journey too.. and knowing what we know about God's deliberateness in the Incarnation, as in the Passion, and in the mystery of our redemption, that cannot be an insignificant journey. And any and every part of Christ's journey from Bethlehem to Golgotha -- including such apparent side trips as the Last Supper? No accident either -- not by any means.

Readings from Wednesday of Holy Week

Mass Readings

First reading	Isaiah 50:4 - 9
The Lord has given me a disciple’s tongue. So that I may know how to reply to the wearied he provides me with speech. Each morning he wakes me to hear, to listen like a disciple. The Lord has opened my ear. ...

Psalm or canticle: Psalm 68

Gospel	Matthew 26:14 - 25
One of the Twelve, the man called Judas Iscariot, went to the chief priests and said, ‘What are you prepared to give me if I hand him over to you?’ They paid him thirty silver pieces, and from that moment he looked for an opportunity to betray him. ...

Readings from the Liturgy of the Hours

Mid-morning reading (Terce)	1 Timothy 2:4 - 6
God our saviour wants everyone to be saved and reach full knowledge of the truth. For there is only one God, and there is only one mediator between God and mankind, himself a man, Christ Jesus, who sacrificed himself as a ransom for them all. He is the evidence of this, sent at the appointed time.

---

Noon reading (Sext)	Romans 15:3 ©
Christ did not think of himself. The words of scripture apply to him: the insults of those who insult you fall on me.

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Afternoon reading (None)	Hebrews 9:28
Christ offers himself only once to take the faults of many on himself, and when he appears a second time, it will not be to deal with sin but to reward with salvation those who are waiting for him.

[All readings from Universalis.com]

Why do we need the sacrament of Penance

[Thanks to Mark Shea, in whose blog I found this profoundly moving exchange.]

Readings from the Liturgy of the Hours

There is this common concept among Protestants, from Luther's famous snow-covered dunghill analogy, of the sinner before the throne of mercy, receiving mercy because Christ stands in front of us, shielding us from our just punishment by his righteousness and the ransom he already paid for us. The truth is even better than that (let me borrow from Prof. Scott Hahn here).

I think readings like these from the Liturgy of the Hours tell us just how much better:

Mid-morning reading (Terce) 2 Corinthians 13:11

Brethren, be joyful. Try to grow perfect; help one another. Be united; live in peace, and the God of love and peace will be with you.

Noon reading (Sext) Romans 6:22

Now you have been set free from sin, you have been made slaves of God, and you get a reward leading to your sanctification and ending in eternal life.

Afternoon reading (None) Colossians 1:21 - 22

Not long ago, you were foreigners and enemies, in the way that you used to think and the evil things that you did; but now he has reconciled you, by his death and in that mortal body. Now you are able to appear before him holy, pure and blameless.

Healing to the contrite

It struck me today as the priest said it during Mass: "Lord, you grant healing to the contrite of heart. Lord have mercy." How wonderful indeed is our God, whose mercy goes beyond acknowledging our contribution. Rather than simply canceling our debts, he extends credit to us. Not only does he bind our wounds, he feeds us and brings us good health. And it all begins with the love of God, responded to (it is hoped) by our contrition, and reaches its climax in forgiveness and the giving to us of sanctifying grace. Praise God!

The Lord is glorious in his saints; come let us adore him!

Today the Church celebrates St. Francis of Assisi, whom some consider to be the most Christ-like of the saints in his humility and childlike nature. That invitatory above is from the common for saints, and it struck me as truly most apt for il Poverello, who was a great sinner before he became a great saint. A hedonist who became an ascetic, pretty much. Once worldly who became heavenly. The glory of God shows in this great work of salvation -- which is precisely why the lives of the saints are wonderful spiritual reading for us.

I too am a great sinner, but the Lord's mercy is greater than the greatest sin, and the Lord is glorious in his saints. Come let us adore him! Adeste adoremus!"

Sin, Scrupulosity, Fear and Lov

Lito had posted in his blog about Sean Hannity and Fr. Tom Euteneuer, the latter having publicly contradicted the former's heterodox notions about contraception. Lito had latched on to Fr. Tom's later statement (in another venue) that he was compelled to try and correct Mr. Hannity by his duty as a pastor, that to fail to even try would jeopardize his salvation. Lito and I had been going back and forth about justification by works (and Catholics do not advocate that this is by works alone), so I felt that I had to respond in order to head that off. Then Lito asked about mortal and venial sin:

All sins from my understanding are mortal as I think Jesus taught - for example he says to the Pharisees "to look at a woman to lust after her" is already tantamount to adultery so we sin in our thoughts, in our words and in or actions too. Would you agree to this characterization of sin? For example we do not love God and neighbor constantly so we are sinning mortally everyday.

This was my response. Not that everything that follows is spot on -- I am often guilty of hastily writing a response, particularly when I'm way past my bedtime (and the bread has probably gone past simply cooling down -- it is probably soaking by now -- in the bread pan). But Mark Shea's quip that no thought of his, "no matter how stupid, should ever go unpublished," is forever etched in my mind, so I wish to post my response to Lito for posterity:

I think the Catholic theology on mortal and venial sin is more .. rigidly organized. To constantly ask the question "is this mortally sinful or is it venially sinful only?" is not really the right attitude to sinfulness, but some people do fall into that. I have been known to drive myself crazy with scrupulosity, particularly when I was still in college.

BTW Cardinal O'Connor gives a good homily on that.

For me, scrupulosity loses out with love and trust: God's love and my trust in God's love more than any fear of God's judgment. It took a while for me to get here though, and scrupulosity can still rear its ugly head from time to time...

But as to sinning mortally everyday.. let's just say that we would disappoint God daily if not for His grace which, from time to time, manages to spur us into love. When we are called to regular confession, Catholics are urged to consider two things: God's love and our contrition. Love is superior to fear, but fear is not without its place. The fear of the Lord is of wisdom. Love of the Lord is at the end. Fear brings about imperfect contrition. Love spurs us into perfect contrition, with the right motive being that we would want more than anything to please the Lord because we love him. Now for those who would worry about mortal and venial sins.. I guess at a tender age with an immature level of faith, one would go through that stage when the Law is a set of rules; before one moves into the Law being a life of freedom written in our hearts. For those, I guess it is important to reassure them that, so and so are not serious acts of unrighteousness and so should not elicit an exaggerated dread of having lost Heaven, something which can harm one's faith -- the notion of God picking you apart for every transgression, the minor as much as the major. At the same time, it is important to be able to bluntly (sometimes necessary) point out to those with calloused consciences that so and so are serious sins which cry to Heaven for justice and must be dealt with appropriately. To do otherwise would also be harmful to the faith -- the notion that God does not care for the oppressed, does not expect justice in our actions.

There will always be people for whom the difference between mortal and venial, serious and minor trespasses, are relevant. To fail to distinguish them could be harmful to such people as they are still growing in their faith and righteousness.

Guilt and Confession

Please read this latest e-letter from Karl Keating (to which I am subscribed):

"CONFESSIONS: SATURDAYS FROM 4:00 TO 4:05"

Dear Friend of Catholic Answers:

That is what I imagine the average church's signboard could advertise, so few are those who go to confession any more. Like me, you probably go to confession regularly, but most Catholics go rarely or not at all.

This was confirmed in a newspaper article that appeared last week, so it must be true. The article was distributed by the Religion News Service, which said that "only 14 percent of Catholics go to confession yearly. ... Forty-two percent reported they never go to confession at all. ... Fifty years ago, penitents lined the aisles outside confessional booths on Saturday afternoons, waiting to admit their sins, recite the Act of Contrition, receive absolution from a priest, make their penance, and be forgiven."

Gone with the wind, that. What happened?

The article said that "sociologists and Catholic clergy list a number of reasons, including changing notions of sin, opposition to the Church's stance on birth control, widespread changes after the Second Vatican Council, ignorance about the sacrament, and busy lives."

Each of those, no doubt, has had something to do with our ending up with everybody going to Communion and almost nobody going to confession, but I think the real answer may be simpler than that. Let me tell you a true story.

Some years ago I was invited to dinner at the rectory of the most populous parish in the Los Angeles Archdiocese. When I knocked on the door, the housekeeper admitted me. It was evident at once that no one else was there. Had I shown up on the wrong night? Oh, no, said the housekeeper. All four priests were still in the church, hearing confessions.

On a Thursday night?

When the priests finally returned to the rectory, the pastor apologized for keeping me waiting. They had had fifty more penitents than usual for a Thursday. I remarked that Thursday evening seemed an odd time to have confessions. "Oh, we have confessions every evening," said the pastor--hundreds and hundreds of confessions each week.

I wondered how that could be possible. The pastor chuckled. He said that neighboring pastors asked the same thing--and they proffered answers. "Many of them say, 'Well, you're just getting our penitents because you have such convenient times for reconciliation,' but that's not so, you know. We can tell that these are our own people."

But why, I asked, were the four priests in this parish kept busy with confessions each evening, not to mention on Saturday afternoons, when in neighboring parishes only a handful of people showed up at the once-a-week slot for confessions?

"Easy," said the pastor. "It's so easy that other priests don't believe how we do it."

Okay, I said. What's the secret?

"From the pulpit we tell our people that they are sinners, that they know they are sinners, and that they need to go to confession. We tell them that God loves them and wants to forgive them. We tell them that we will be waiting for them in the confessionals each night and on Saturday afternoon. We tell them this often and always gently, and so they come to confession. Lots of them."

That's it? I asked. No fire and brimstone? No bribes, spiritual or otherwise? No threats?

"Not necessary," said the pastor. "If you tell people the truth that they already know in their hearts--that they are sinners and need forgiveness--they will respond to that." And so they did.

No matter what changes have occurred since Vatican II, no matter how ill-instructed today's Catholics may be, no matter how put off they may be by scandals or flat homilies, one thing has remained constant: human nature. People today commit the same sorts of sins that people committed fifty or a hundred or a thousand years ago, and those sins affect them as sins always have affected people. At least in this regard, there is nothing new under the sun.

The story I have told suggests why most parishes have few penitents: The fault is found not so much in the wider culture but in the narrow pulpit. When is the last time you heard a priest, even a good one, say clearly that those listening to him were sinners, knew they were sinners, and needed to go to confession--and that he would be waiting for them and would give them as much time as they needed?

Yes, I know of good priests who mention confession, but I can't remember the last time I heard that even one of them spoke about the sacrament the way it should be spoken about. And those are the good priests. What about priests who would rather not have Saturday afternoons so inconveniently interrupted, the ones who have never uttered the word "confession" from the pulpit, who think they are doing their parishioners a favor by not trying to burden them with guilt?

I have news for such priests: Their parishioners already are burdened with guilt. They struggle with guilt because each person over the age of reason is a sinner. That is something called a Brute Fact. What a pity that so many priests fail to understand what is so obvious to the people they preach to each week!

Until next time,

Karl

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