Mercy, Mary and Confession - Not Just for Lent

Several years ago before Easter, I went with a friend of mine to our parish’s communal penance service. At that time, both of us were struggling in our marriages and needed support and prayer. When the time came for individual confessions, she chose one line and I chose another. I examined my conscience while waiting, feeling pretty confident that I had done a thorough job.

I was wrong.

I began my confession and, at one point, started to tell the priest about a sharp response I made to my husband. I quickly mentioned that I spoke harshly but then started to tell him in great detail what prompted my response. The priest very quickly but kindly said, “No, no, no, this is not about your husband. I want to hear what YOU did.” I’m not proud to admit that my first response was the thought, “Well, yeah, but if I tell you what he did, my response will make so much more sense. You’ll see that I wouldn’t have done this at all if he hadn’t done that!” After an awkward moment or two of silence, I proceeded with the rest of my confession.

The priest advised me to look more closely at the Blessed Mother and note that she doesn’t speak much in Scripture. He commented that she didn’t tell every little thought in her head but rather pondered the things of God in her heart. I knew that he was telling me in a very nice, pastoral way to shut up! He was saying that I didn’t need to respond to everything and make sure that my every opinion and hurt is known. 
Usually I feel much better after the sacrament of penance - not that time. In fact, I felt worse than before I went into the confessional. I want to clarify, too, that it was not the sacrament that was making me feel bad. Jesus was asking me through the person of the priest to change ... I didn’t want to.

            After the penance service ended, my friend approached me and said, “Oh! I feel so much better! Father was so nice and he just told me ‘oh honey, it will be okay. Sometimes men just behave like that.’” Her joy and relief at her confession were apparent and, to me, irritating! That was the confession experience I wanted! I didn’t want to be told I was responsible for the words that came out of my own mouth. I wanted to be comforted and to feel better. At this point, I probably should have gone right back into the confessional because she really started getting on my nerves. I stopped listening to her but managed to mutter a “good for you” comment.

            My self pity lasted through the drive home. It certainly didn’t ease up when I got there. As soon as I walked in the door, one of my children ran up to me and said, “Mom, I need to tell you something but promise you won’t get mad!”

That did not help. If anything, it increased my poor, pitiful me outlook.

            Over the next several weeks, the priest’s comments came back to me again and again and yet again. I really wanted to forget them but they refused to budge. Slowly, slowly, slowly I became more honest with myself. I didn’t like it either but I saw more clearly how much Divine Mercy I needed. I had to grudgingly admit that the Holy Spirit guided me to the confessor I needed that evening. Even though the process was painful, I am very grateful to him for insisting that I focus on my own sins rather than someone else’s. I am very grateful that he challenged me to be more like Mary. His truthfulness in the confessional opened my heart to see my own sinfulness in order to be transformed in grace. To this day, I have no idea who the priest was but he mercifully taught me a lesson I have never forgotten.

            Don’t wait until next Lent to go back to the confessional. The mercy of Christ is there for you. Seek it frequently and you will truly be renewed.