True Confessions

Our parish had its annual pre-Easter Penance Service last night. Although why they call it a "service" I don't know. It bore no resemblance to the "penance services" of my college days, where everybody sang songs, watched liturgical dancers doing a "reconciliation dance"- you know, the one where they wear purple leotards (that was pretty penitential, I guess), and then attended a "poor people's supper." This last meant we shared soup and bread to show our solidarity with the truly desperate. A regular Calcutta.

But like I said, Holy Family's penance service was nothing like that. Instead what they had was nine, count 'em,nine priests, stashed behind screens in every nook and cranny of the little church. This was why the side entrances were closed off with yellow "Police Line" tape. They were using the vestibules for confessionals.

The Sacrament of Reconciliation- formerly known as the Sacrament of Penance, more colloquially "confession"- holds a certain fascination for some people. A few months back some jerk in Britain went to a dozen different priests, confessed bogus sins and then taped the priest's responses. HIs groundbreaking report- that different priests said different things- made headlines around the world. Which proves that even in an age of Islamic terrorism the world of journalism is still hard up for headlines. Go figure.

Ask a dozen people what they think of the practice and you will probably get a dozen different answers. The idea of confessing one's personal sins to a priest strikes people as anywhere from therapeutic to just this side of kinky. Personally I've always gone along with Ernest Hemingway's assessment: it isn't as interesting as it sounds.

You can have all sorts of experiences in confessionals. Every Catholic has his stories about the priest who was hard of hearing ("Speak up!" "I SAID I HAD AN AFFAIR!-oops..."), or the one whose command of English wasn't so great. This is where Opus Dei comes in, by the way. And it can make them a popular choice at times.

Actually one of DIH's most memorable experiences in the confessional was with an Opus Dei priest. This was at a time when I was pretty thoroughly out of/fed up with the Church. A well-meaning friend begged me to go with her to an Opus Dei meeting, I went just to be polite, then she threw a wailing fit in the chapel when I said I wasn't interested in going to confession. Really wailing. People were staring. And she wouldn't shut up. "Okay, okay!" I rasped as sotto voce as I could. "I'll go!"

Three minutes later I found myself in the booth. The little door slid back, and a priest with a heavy Spanish accent began the ritual. I interrupted him. "Um, Father, I don't mean to be rude but- I'm really just here to hide from someone."

"Hide? Why?"

I explained.

"I see. And who are you hiding from?"

I told him.

The light dawned. "Oh- oh, her! yes, yes I see. Very emotional girl. Well. Why don't you just stay here for a few minutes, she should be leaving soon. So, what kind of work do you do?"

We chatted amiably for a few minutes, Then the padre said, "I think she's gone now. It was nice talking to you. If you ever feel like coming to confession for real, I'm always here on Tuesdays. But if you do decide to come? I wouldn't tell your friend out there. Have a nice day!"

As I recall, I did end up having a very nice day. I'm not so sure about the friend who dragged me there.