Meditations for Layfolks - Sorrow for Sin in Confession

It is to be regretted that the English name for this sacrament is Confession, for it seems to make the essence of the sacrament consist in the mere avowal of sin, whereas that is of lesser consequence than the act of sorrow that precedes and follows it. In other languages than our own it is sometimes spoken of as the sacrament of penance that is, of penitence and this is really a more accurate description of it. But it would be a less difficult doctrine for very many, if they could only realize that it is in fact the sacrament of sorrow. Indeed, sorrow is the whole essence of it; for there are times when the avowal of sin is quite impossible. It happens at times that a man may find himself in a country where he cannot speak the local language, nor the local priest understand his; he cannot, therefore, make his confession. Or, again, a still more common case is that of a person suddenly struck down by paralysis or apoplexy or some such kindred illness, which does not allow the power of speech. Here it is clearly impossible for a confession to be made: yet in each of these instances the unfortunate man may well desire to have his sins forgiven him. What is he to do? He cannot confess, yet he may approach the sacrament of Confession. How? By asking for absolution, not perhaps in words, but by signs; and, as the priest says the words of absolution, by making an act of contrition or sorrow. Here, then, it is evident that the whole essential portion of the sacrament is the sorrow, for the sacrament has been fully performed without the telling of the sins. The confession and the satisfaction are necessary, but they are not essential.

Sorrow for sin is the one thing which is of absolute necessity in this sacrament. It is, therefore, the part of the confession on which I must most dwell. Sometimes am I not apt to worry a great deal about my list of sins, taking surprising pains to discover every single fault and the exact number of times that I have fallen, and then hurrying over my actual sorrow as of less importance? Of course, I know perfectly well that the sorrow was really the more necessary of the two, but it does happen that I devote perhaps less time to it than to the other. Here, then, I must see what can be done to set this right not the persistent torture of the conscience till Confession becomes a thing to be avoided, but rather dwelling far more effectually upon the sorrow and its motive. Certainly this would make my spiritual life happier, and whatever does that is sheer gain. I think, therefore, of my sins and then try to realize what they cost our Lord. In the house of the Pharisee He, with the sensitiveness of perfect humanity, numbered up the slights that had been put upon Him. What would He say to me? Nay, what is He saying to me? So many times have I been forgiven and so many times has that forgiveness been forgotten: all His love wasted! the alabaster box, rilled with the most precious ointment, broken across my heart: the fragrance still fills the world with wonder, and I forget. He is my lover, and He is waiting for me at the trysting-place. To confess is surely a little thing compared with what I have done that requires forgiveness; to confess is even a satisfaction, it unburdens my soul of its great weight. But beyond confession is the sorrow.

Surely, then, it is not difficult to be sorry for my sins, not difficult to turn as Peter turned when he had looked upon the face of Christ, and going out wept bitterly. But Judas, had not he, too, tears upon his eyes when he had hurled back the money till it rang upon the marble steps of the Temple, and went out into the night with the consciousness of how he had trangressed against love? Yes, he too "wept bitterly," but where he failed was that sorrow for him did not lead on to love. If he had only gone back to the Master, we should have kept his feast each year as the most blessed of penitents. My sorrow, then, must make me turn to love Him more. On the other hand, I must not think that I have to fed sorrow. I must not suppose that I have no real contrition because I am sure that if the opportunity arose I should fall again into the same sins; nor imagine myself to be a hypocrite because I am certain that next week or next month will find me once again telling the same list. For I have to realize that by sorrow I mean that, together with regret for the past, I have also a firm purpose of amendment, i.e. a determination that in the future I shall try to do better. I have no right to promise that next Confession will find me free from sin, for I am promising what is above my power to perform; but I can promise that I shall try. Failing or successful, I shall at least have made the attempt, and for the rest God Himself must needs supply. My sorrow, then, in the confession is the essential part of it, and to it must be devoted the greater portion of my time. Then the sorrow must be supernatural; it must lead on to God; it need not be emotional, but it must include a real determination to do my best to overcome myself. By the pitiful sight of His five wounds, by the generous kindness of the Creator, by His own absolute loveableness as the supreme and perfect Good, I must fix my will resolutely and for ever try to fulfill His service.

- text taken from Meditations for Layfolk by Father Bede Jarrett, O.P.