For all of them, at least for a few minutes, it is dialogue with a concerned adult who seems to understand and empathize. For this alone, the time, the energy, the prayer, and the occasional heartache involved on the part of the minister in sharing their pain, confusion, and fears is what the sacramentality is all about.

It seems to me that not only Catholic teens but also Catholic adults often struggle in the ways described in this article. What is your experience in ministry?

One wonders: Will the confessors have to follow the same app? Will the results of the examination of conscience REALLY be wiped out, or could someone with enough motivation and skill gain access to this personal information? Who decides what’s in the examination of conscience?

On the other hand, if a step-by-step guide prompts both penitents and confessors to follow the Rite of Penance more fully, which is beautiful but too often truncated in practice, this could be a benefit. The technology might be a help for some.

What do you think?

UPDATE:  New York Times columnist Maureen Dowd notes today that this app stands at #42 on the iTunes bestseller list, making it a “global success.”

Kidder’s 22 chapters are divided into four parts, the first two of which trace the history of private confession from its biblical beginnings through the Reformations (Protestant and Catholic) of the sixteenth century. Beginning with the stated need for human conversion and practices of individual and corporate repentance described in the Old Testament, Kidder examines the Judaeo-Christian notions of sin and penitence that run through the biblical text, culminating in the teachings of Jesus, and the writings of Paul, the letter to the Hebrews and the Book of Revelation. Early Christian approaches to post-baptismal repentance and ongoing conversion are briefly examined, including the development of the Order of Penitents.

Four key chapters (3-6) lay out the evolution of private confession, from early practices of individual and group spiritual companionship among desert monastics through the fifth- through eighth-century Celtic monks. During this period, Kidder notes, confession was conversational and directive, with both women and men serving the role of the spiritual friend. Confessional practices were oriented toward spiritual development and growth, a laying-bare of self and soul to a trusted other; and that penance was assigned and undertaken along a medicinal model, to promote healing and strengthening along that developmental way. The gradual development of private confession of sins to a priest, which was emerging around the year 600, Kidder suggests was “at first more pastoral than penitential in nature, more focused on spiritual direction than on penitential practice and absolution” (43). While over time notions of balancing the scales, making up for the debt of sin, and the need for thorough examination of particular consciences would take hold, Kidder draws out the fact that, in theory (at least) the evolved form of sacramental confession never wholly lost its medicinal, corrective nature.

Kidder’s unique contribution to the historiography of confession comes through her tracing of the rise of private spiritual direction in a parallel and somewhat separate track with sacramental confession (chapter 7). As the penitential act became more focused on the confession of specific sins, the assignment of penance and the declaration of absolution, women and men, lay and ordained, sought spiritual counsel outside the context of the sacrament of penance. In this regard, the author notes the rise of the mendicant orders and their work as early “spiritual directors” in the modern sense, and the place of lay-confessors among the Beguines, religious third orders, anchorites and anchoresses, and the Friends of God and Devotio Moderna movements. That which could no longer be found in sacramental confession was sought, individually and in groups, elsewhere.

Kidder observes similar development among the Protestant reformers of the sixteenth century (chapters 8, 10-11). Emphasis on the sole efficacy of Christ in the forgiveness of sin did not lessen the reformers’ sense of the need for repentance and confession; but direct auricular confession to a priest, minister or pastor, could not be viewed as necessary. Varying forms of public liturgical confession during Sunday services and practices of church discipline including excommunication took the place of individual confession to a priest, though there remained the option to lay bare one’s soul to a pastor or minister, and to receive assurance of God’s pardon and forgiveness. Emphasis among the Reformers on the “Priesthood of All Believers” prompted the growth of Pietism among Lutherans and Calvinists, and was one component in the rise of Methodism: all of these maintained practices of group and individual spiritual direction, including the confession of sin (chapter 9). While the Council of Trent emphasized the absolute need for confession to a priest of individual sins integrally (in species, number and circumstance), the ministry of religious priests (now including the Jesuits) helped maintain the connection between confession of sin and spiritual growth and direction (chapters 12-13).

The third part of the book is a mostly-successful examination of “Contemporary Practices of Confession,” including both theological and practical aspects of confession. Chapter 14, which opens this section, is largely repetitive of the first thirteen chapters; while it focuses attention in a new way on key themes from scripture and the history of penance — and introduces American developments, including the revivalist preaching of the eighteenth and nineteenth centuries and the rise of Alcoholics Anonymous — much of what is covered here has already been rehearsed. Chapter 15 takes a hard look at the decline of private, sacramental confession from the mid-20th century forward, identifying developments in the fields of psychology and psychiatry, social work, as well as growth in spiritual direction and pastoral counselling movements, shifting theologies of sin, its nature and effects, as all contributing to a disuse of confession.

Kidder’s chapter (16) on “A Contemporary Theology of Confession” is a particularly rich and worthwhile read. Through the writings of Karl Rahner, SJ, Dietrich Bonhoeffer, Eugene Peterson and Adrienne von Speyer, Kidder is able to draw together a coherent ecumenical theology of sin and forgiveness that can support the practice of private confession in a variety of circumstances and across denominational lines.

The fourth section of the book, “Why Confession Matters: Practical Considerations” devotes six brief chapters to topics including the selection of a confessor, the ministry of a (good) confessor, examination of conscience, the nature of penance, rites of private confession and “Catechetical Considerations.” In this section, perhaps more than any other, Kidder’s desire to see private confession taken seriously in both theory and practice, especially among Protestant Christians, is evident.

At times throughout Making Confession, Hearing Confession, Kidder’s background as a Presbyterian Pastor is evident; her claims regarding Anglican doctrinal beliefs are colored by her Reformed reading of the evidences, and (in spite of the fact that she draws heavily on it), her knowledge of the two-rite system of the American Book of Common Prayer is limited. She seems much more familiar, and comfortable, with Roman Catholic texts and authors. One also notes the use of the term “litany” throughout the text in reference to contemporary rites for private confession: “The order for the sacrmanet of confession follows a clear outline. This outline is called a litany to indicate that confession is part of the larger church’s worship and liturgy” (314). This use is idiosyncratic to this book, with “litany” otherwise generally meaning a list of invocations with a common response — a small point, though recurring frequently enough throughout the book to suggest that a closer editorial reading would have been helpful.

These few issues do not detract from the overall value of Kidder’s book, which could serve in a variety of contexts as a general introduction to the history, theology and practice of sacramental confession. Seminarians in any Christian denomination, spiritual directors, adult education groups, and anyone looking to gain a deeper understanding of private confession, will benefit from reading this book.

Annemarie S. Kidder, Making Confession, Hearing Confession: A History of the Cure of Souls. Collegeville: Liturgical Press/A Michael Glazier Book, 2010. xvi + 349 pages, including appendices, bibliography and index.

Paperback: $34.95 — ISBN: 978-0-8146-5497-2
eBook: $24.95 — ISBN: 978-0-8146-5729-4

Together with the Synod Fathers I wish to note that the non-sacramental penitential services mentioned in the ritual of the sacrament of Reconciliation can be helpful for increasing the spirit of conversion and of communion in Christian communities, thereby preparing hearts for the celebration of the sacrament: cf. Propositio 7. (note 62, para. 21)

In my work with the North American Forum on the Catechumenate, I routinely draw attention to such services in the Rite of Penance (Appendix II) and make suggestions about how to celebrate them. After all, they are recommended for catechumens (RP 17), and they also provide good spiritual formation opportunities for candidates in the initiation process. In Canada, where there are no rites for the baptized candidates comparable to Penitential Rite (RCIA 459 ff.) found in the American edition of the RCIA, penitential services of this kind are especially useful.

My experience however, in the U.S. at least, is that the usual response to the idea of non-sacramental penitential services is a blank stare. People have no idea such a thing exists. The practice of celebrating a Penance service without the sacrament—for anybody, not just catechumens or candidates—is indeed a rarity.  I have never been in a parish where they have been celebrated. Yet they are intended for everybody, as Pope Benedict’s warm recommendation suggests.

The Rite of Penance itself says they are desirable

• to foster the spirit of penance in the Christian community;
• to help the faithful to prepare for confession which can be made individually later at a convenient time;
• to help children gradually form their conscience about sin in human life and about freedom from sin through Christ…  (RP 17)

In short, a lot of folks could benefit from them.

I think such services are a good idea, myself.  They can be very affecting and powerful experiences of prayer. I suspect that if we did this sort of thing well and regularly, we would be more capable of entering into the celebration of the Sacrament of Penance in a wholesome and fruitful manner. If nothing else, we’d certainly have a forum in place to lament—for instance—the abuse crisis, to pray for healing, and to reflect on the call to renewed conversion as a community.

So why are such celebrations so very rarely offered? What stands in the way? Are we overworked in the parish? Do we simply not like to think about sin? Is it because if people don’t get a sacrament they feel it’s “nothing,” so they won’t come? Has it just never been tried?

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Cardinal Schönborn:  Triune God, you led our mothers and fathers out of slavery into freedom and taught them the 10 commandments of a good life. You became flesh in Jesus Christ and showed us that love is the fundamental rule in all things. You are with us as Holy Spirit to lead us.

Veronica Prüller-Jagenteuful: And yet we become sinful before you and before one another. Enormous sin has been revealed in these weeks. It is the sin of the individual. It is the sin permeating structures, models of acting, and models of thinking. It is the sin of not offering help and not daring to speak up.

Both: The responsibility for this concerns us as members of the church in widely varying degrees. And yet, we are your people together and we stand in common responsibility. And so we confess to you and to one another our sin:

Prüller-Jagenteuful: We confess that we have not followed God alone, but rather have followed the gods of our need for lording over and superiority.

Cardinal: Some of us have, precisely in that sense, abused others, even children.

Prüller-Jagenteuful: We confess that we have obscured and betrayed the name of God which means love.

Cardinal: Some of us have preached the love of God and yet have done evil to our charges.

Prüller-Jagenteuful: We confess that we have not kept holy and not sufficiently valued the sacraments and other times and places of special encounter with God.

Cardinal: Some of us have used these as opportunity for assault.

Prüller-Jagenteuful: We confess that we have not maintained between adults and children relationships of unconditional respect for the other.

Cardinal: Some of us have used and destroyed the trust of children.

Prüller-Jagenteuful: We confess that we have not takes seriously the destruction of life and happiness in life, that we have not understood the destruction and we have trivialized it.

Cardinal: Some of us have become guilty of the inner murder of other people.

Prüller-Jagenteuful: We confess that we have not cherished bodiliness and have failed in the task of rightly living out our sexuality.

Cardinal: Some of us have done sexual violence.

Prüller-Jagenteuful: We confess that we have wanted to possess youth, beauty, and vitality for ourselves.

Cardinal: Some of us have stolen childhood from boys and girls and robbed them of the capability of living out successful relationships.

Prüller-Jagenteuful: We confess that we did not wish to acknowledge the reality, that we covered up and bore false witness.

Cardinal: Some of us have been able thereby to further delude ourselves and others and continue the criminality.

Prüller-Jagenteuful: We confess that we have wished to have control over others and possess them.

Cardinal: Some of us have thereby usurped the bodies of the weakest ones.

Prüller-Jagenteuful: We confess that we craved security, calm, power, and reputation.

Cardinal: For some of us the Church’s appearance of sinlessness was more important than anything else.

Both: We, the People of God, his Church, bear this sin with one another.

We confess this sin to those many people whom we as Church and some of us as particular individuals have sinned against.

We confess this sin to one another, for the Church has become sinful in its members.

We confess our sin to God.

We are ready to take on our responsibility for the past and the present, individually and communally. We are ready to renew our models of thinking and acting according to the Spirit of Jesus and to collaborate in the healing of wounds. We place ourselves as Church before the judgment of Christ.

Cardinal: O Christ, you said that you have taken our sin upon you. And yet we implore you today: Leave some of it for us. Help us not to brush it away too quickly, and make us ready to take it on: each one for individual sin and all of us together for common sin. And then give us hope in judgment: hope for new freedom coming from truth, and for that forgiveness for which we have no claim.

Amen.

www.kath-kirche.at/content/site/minidossiers/article/53660.html, tr. AWR.

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“When the Victims Speak, God Speaks to Us”

In this hour, preachy words are beside the point. They could be not only uncomfortable, but even injurious. Keeping silent would be appropriate. Not that silence which happens all too often: the silence of covering up, of silencing another, the silence of not being able to speak up. It would have to be the silence of the friends of Job, who simply fell silent and sat in silence before the suffering of their friend.

Thanks, that you have broken the silence. Thanks, that victims have begun to trust themselves enough to speak. Oftentimes it takes a long time to break out of the spiral of silence. Much has broken open. There is less looking the other way. But much remains to be done.

I confess that I often have the feeling of injustice these days. Why is it mostly the Church which is pilloried? Isn’t there abuse elsewhere? Is anyone looking into that? Is it being dealt with? And then I am easily tempted to say: Well, the media just plain don’t like the Church! Maybe there’s even a conspiracy against the Church?

But then I feel in my heart – no, that’s not it. Even if that were the case, the mirror which is held up to us reflects something which makes abuse in the Church especially serious: it defiles the holy name of God. It closes off, often for an entire lifetime, access to the God who is with us and makes us free. Abuse which is sexual or physically violent or both, when it is committed by a church representative, by a priest or a professed religious, can become a “poisoning of God.” The people who are supposed to bring the nearness and the name of God become destroyers of the relationship to God. It is this which makes abuse in the Church even worse. Thus, the words of “holy anger” which Jesus uttered are so terrifyingly serious: “To the person who causes scandal to one of these little ones, it would be better for him if a millstone were put around his neck and he be thrown into the sea.”

Scandal to the “little ones,” the dependent ones, the defenseless, children and youth: this meets God’s anger and woe.

In the Book of Exodus the topic is an encounter with God. It is not an encounter with an anonymous power, with some kind or other of energy, but rather with an I: “I am the God of Abraham, the God of Isaac, and the God of Jacob. I am the God of your father.” He is the God who calls Moses by name, who calls us, who calls each one by name: He knows him. He knows me. He calls him. He calls me. He is my God and the God of each one of you.

And he shows who he is. He is not the God who looks the other way and does not listen: “I have seen the pain of my people in Egypt and I have heard their loud lament. I know their suffering.” A God who looks in and listens closely, and who does not remain unmoved by suffering.

How horrible it is when access to this God is closed off by people of the Church. When the name of this living God is poisoned. And then individuals must experience: your pain is ignored, your suffering is not seen, your loud lament is not heard!

Moses would not have been able to encounter this God if he had looked the other way during his time in Egypt when one of his fellow people, a Hebrew, was mistreated by a slave driver. For this Moses had paid the price of not looking the other way.

“And now, go,” the challenge of God to Moses, “lead my people out of the house of slavery! Lead them into freedom, into the land flowing with milk and honey.” Moses can only perform this service when he “knows their suffering,” when he acts like God who said of himself: “I have come down to rescue you from the hand of the Egyptians.” From up on his high horse, Moses cannot bring down to his people the liberation of God.

Is it not the tragedy of what we now experience, that a Gospel of liberation has become the Bad News of abuse? From this the Church must repent, all of us. As long as the Church does not look in and listen closely, the Church will only obstruct the liberating, redeeming God. Not only will the Church not proclaim the Good News of liberation from the house of slavery, it will make the slavery even worse.

This is a painful experience for the Church. But what is this pain in comparison to the pain of the victims whom we have not seen or listened to!  When the victims now speak, then God speaks to us, to his Church, in order to shake it up and purify it; then, through the victims, that God speaks to us who said to Moses: “I have diligently taken heed of you and have seen what they have done to you.”

www.kath-kirche.at/content/site/minidossiers/article/53660.html, tr. AWR.

Let us pray, dear friends,
for the victims of sexual abuse,
in particular for children who were abused by clergy;
that God may grant to those whose innocence was violated
the grace of healing and new life.

Silent prayer. Then the priest sings or says:

I wanted to share an experience of something that worked well in a parish setting to prepare these ministers for their once-a-year service as distributors of ashes.

We met as a group a day or two before Ash Wednesday for some spiritual preparation as well as a rehearsal. Here is the outline, with some explanation of how it worked.

Prayer (This sets the tone, and can be as simple or elaborate as you wish. We used a combination of sung and spoken prayer.)

Introductions (Some did not know each other, so this was important not only so that they could work  in teams, but also to establish a sense of community among the ministers for the event.)

Faith sharing (The participants were invited to reflect on two questions: What does the ritual of ashes mean to you personally? and What do you think it means to the various people who come to receive ashes? They shared their responses in small groups for about 5 minutes. Then a few insights were named in the large group.)

Input (Very brief, highlighting the connection between this ritual and the Lenten observance, and perhaps sharing a personal story, drawing attention to the paschal mystery.)

Rehearsal (Practical matters were clarified such as making sure everyone knows their stations, when they are to come forward, what text they will use, how to handle clean-up, etc.)

Setting aside time for preparation, and above all grounding the experience in prayer and shared reflection, allowed the ministers to be more centered and recollected in their service. I also believe this is a natural moment for liturgical catechesis and community building around a specific liturgical event. The feedback was very positive!