I don’t get to Confession very often. Partly that is because Saturday afternoons are the absolute worst time for me to go anywhere. That’s with or without a Notre Dame football game, which has pretty much turned into a Near Occasion of Sin these days. I’m as die-hard a fan as they come without purchasing those blue-and-gold plaid pants, but it’s really getting tough to watch a game without resorting to the kind of language that gets a movie a PG-13 rating.
So yesterday I walked away from the television and took myself to Confession. It was way past time to do that. But I left there feeling kind of “disappointed.” My former confessor has moved away (a year ago) and this priest…well, Confession is not his strong suit, I guess. I had come to expect to be challenged a little, at the sacrament. Instead, I felt like I was just “assembly-lined” through. But I don’t want to let my disappointment eat away at me. I am trying to remember that Father is a very good priest, and pastor, in many other ways. He can’t be good at everything.
So, a confession about Confession: I was so busy focusing on “what I get out of it” that I missed what I really do get out of it: grace. I didn’t meet St. John Vianney in the Reconciliation Room yesterday. But I did confess my sins; I made a good Act of Contrition; and I was absolved in the name of the Father, Son and Holy Spirit.
I realize now that instead of whipping through the small penance I was given, I should have taken the time to do a little work on my soul.
Next time I won’t wait so long, and I won’t let my expectations get in the way of the sacrament.