Exhorting a crowd gathered in Rome, the Holy Father made the following remark:
Oh, and people carry the weight of sin around with them. I know, I said it: the dreaded s-word: sin. Though it's not a popular or trendy word, it remains nevertheless true that each and every one of us is freighted with the baggage of sin. We try to walk the path of discipleship as a follower of Jesus Christ but we fall off the path, wander into the thicket, and emerge covered in the muck and mire of life. But when we are aware of this residue, this spiritual baggage we've picked up along the way, it makes following the Lord increasingly difficult. Shame becomes an obstacle to the path of joy.
There's a trend in society and certainly in some theological circles to diminish, if not erase, the sense of shame. We decry "body shaming" or "fat shaming" and, to be sure, this is a good thing: we should not hold up for mockery any other person. That said, the experience of shame for what one has done is not a bad thing. In fact, it's a very good thing: it means one's conscience is at work and that one can recognize that one needs healing.
If you had a gaping wound on your forehead, you'd probably not think twice about having it seen by a physician. The story of how the wound came to be might be embarrassing (you fell down while drunk), but the pressing issue remains to treat the wound and restore health. Some of my friends who are emergency physicians have shared that while they, at first, were shocked by what brought people into the ER, they are seldom fazed any longer. Some wounds need little explanation, others call for the patient to share the story to get to the bottom of the problem.
Confession, like going to the ER, are alike in this. I'll admit: I'm often a jerk, sharp-tongued, judgmental, and my insecurities lead me to act in a host of destructive ways. I wake up each morning and resolve to stay close to Jesus and I've good days and bad days. Some days I hew close to the path, some nights I'm covered in spiritual burrs and I'm limping from wounds. I'm grateful the Church is seen as a field hospital: I can bring myself in for healing so I can return to the front line.
It's precisely the shame that arises within, the sense that I'm not whole, that is a mark of grace: I know I want to be restored to fighting form. And, amazingly, it is shame that often tells me both that I'm wounded and holds me back from seeking healing: "If you go to confession, what will he think of you? Better to suffer in silence than to risk being judged." That's when I pray for strength and resolve: nothing kept in the darkness can be good for the soul.
I've heard a lot of confessions these past few weeks and, the amazing thing, is that I can't ever remember afterward what someone said. I'll remember faces, but not sins. In fact, I remember the faces of those who come and change through the Sacrament, who seem physically lighter and more free, and this brings great joy to my heart. It is a joy to watch a person be freed from sin and freed for the mission of discipleship.
I mention this because I know - only too well! - that shame can be both the spur to confession and its biggest obstacle. When we allow authentic shame, a sense of sorrow arising from our recognition that we have not lived up to our baptism, to guide us toward healing, this cannot but be a sign of God's mercy and grace. Push through the embarrassment and with confidence approach the Sacrament of God's unlimited grace where we find mercy and help in time of need.
It’s true that when we go to the confessional, we feel a bit of embarrassment, and that happens to everyone, to all of us, but we have to recall that this shame is also a grace that prepares us for the embrace of the Father, who always forgives and always forgives everything.Almost two months into priesthood, I can say there is hardly a more profound experience than to help another person come to know God's boundless and merciful love through the sacrament of confession. More than once have I watched as a person seems to become physically lighter -- slumped shoulders cease curving -- as they unburden themselves from the weights they carry.
Oh, and people carry the weight of sin around with them. I know, I said it: the dreaded s-word: sin. Though it's not a popular or trendy word, it remains nevertheless true that each and every one of us is freighted with the baggage of sin. We try to walk the path of discipleship as a follower of Jesus Christ but we fall off the path, wander into the thicket, and emerge covered in the muck and mire of life. But when we are aware of this residue, this spiritual baggage we've picked up along the way, it makes following the Lord increasingly difficult. Shame becomes an obstacle to the path of joy.
There's a trend in society and certainly in some theological circles to diminish, if not erase, the sense of shame. We decry "body shaming" or "fat shaming" and, to be sure, this is a good thing: we should not hold up for mockery any other person. That said, the experience of shame for what one has done is not a bad thing. In fact, it's a very good thing: it means one's conscience is at work and that one can recognize that one needs healing.
If you had a gaping wound on your forehead, you'd probably not think twice about having it seen by a physician. The story of how the wound came to be might be embarrassing (you fell down while drunk), but the pressing issue remains to treat the wound and restore health. Some of my friends who are emergency physicians have shared that while they, at first, were shocked by what brought people into the ER, they are seldom fazed any longer. Some wounds need little explanation, others call for the patient to share the story to get to the bottom of the problem.
Confession, like going to the ER, are alike in this. I'll admit: I'm often a jerk, sharp-tongued, judgmental, and my insecurities lead me to act in a host of destructive ways. I wake up each morning and resolve to stay close to Jesus and I've good days and bad days. Some days I hew close to the path, some nights I'm covered in spiritual burrs and I'm limping from wounds. I'm grateful the Church is seen as a field hospital: I can bring myself in for healing so I can return to the front line.
It's precisely the shame that arises within, the sense that I'm not whole, that is a mark of grace: I know I want to be restored to fighting form. And, amazingly, it is shame that often tells me both that I'm wounded and holds me back from seeking healing: "If you go to confession, what will he think of you? Better to suffer in silence than to risk being judged." That's when I pray for strength and resolve: nothing kept in the darkness can be good for the soul.
I've heard a lot of confessions these past few weeks and, the amazing thing, is that I can't ever remember afterward what someone said. I'll remember faces, but not sins. In fact, I remember the faces of those who come and change through the Sacrament, who seem physically lighter and more free, and this brings great joy to my heart. It is a joy to watch a person be freed from sin and freed for the mission of discipleship.
I mention this because I know - only too well! - that shame can be both the spur to confession and its biggest obstacle. When we allow authentic shame, a sense of sorrow arising from our recognition that we have not lived up to our baptism, to guide us toward healing, this cannot but be a sign of God's mercy and grace. Push through the embarrassment and with confidence approach the Sacrament of God's unlimited grace where we find mercy and help in time of need.
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