My last reconciliation had occurred prior to Vatican II. Back then
we always confessed our sins to the priest in a darkened confessional.
The sound of the sliding window signaled the time for me to shed the
usual minor sins of youth. Confession terrified me, not so much because
of the darkness of the confessional, but because of the darkness hidden
within me.
College in the tumultuous 1960s came along and I was drawn away
from my faith. To me, the Church was little more than a building without
any real human or spiritual connection. I became convinced that the
Catholic Church had little to offer me and drifted away. I went on to
pursue my education, a successful career, and the many distractions of
the world.
More than three decades passed. I married outside the Catholic Church
and despite our intrinsic spirituality, my husband and I rejected church,
and all that seemed irrelevant to us.
We had a good life and traveled abroad frequently, appreciating the
world from its multiple perspectives. Curiously, in our travels I found
myself exploring cathedrals and chapels, pretending that I was just ad-
miring the flying buttresses and stained glass windows. I never dared to
admit that what I was really admiring was the faith and passion that could
build such things. I also never dared to admit that I was seeking faith and
a passionate relationship with the Lord for myself.
It eventually became abundantly clear that it was time for me to return
to God. The Catholic Church was familiar and comfortable, and that was
where I was being called to return.
Much had changed in the Church during the decades I had been away.
I spent weeks looking for the right parish and a priest to whom I thought
I might be able to go to fill in those lapses. A kindly bishop literally half
a world away directed me to a local parish.
I scoured the internet for advice on how to go about making a good
confession. I spent days and sleepless nights examining my conscience
and dutifully prepared a list so I wouldn’t forget my sins from more than
thirty years. What became painfully clear was that I had committed the
greatest sin of all. I had turned my back on God.
Not knowing what to expect or even how to actually go about a
formal reconciliation at the dawn of the twenty-first century, I waited
anxiously in line. It brought back all of those childhood memories of
Saturday confessions from so long ago.
The first word I heard from Father Jim when I entered was “Peace.”
Gradually I settled in and recounted my general sins from the last thirtyplus
years. Then it was time for the big one.
I had a conversation with the good priest, telling him how I had
rejected God all those years. He absolved my sins and blessed me, and
ended with gentle encouragement. He told me that I had made his day
by laying all the sins of my adult life before him and expressed his joy
that I had returned to the Church.
I was relieved that the priest did not act as though my story was
unique or horrendous, and was happy that I had recognized the genuine
nature of my greatest sin. Both of these points contributed to me having
made a good confession.
My penance was to say a prayer for my non-Catholic husband who
would have much adjusting to do as I recommitted myself to a life in
which God was now the center.
Later that day I realized it was the feast of Christ the King, and the
last Sunday of the Year of the Eucharist. Since then, every year I celebrate
that feast day as the anniversary of my rebirth.
Candice Francis Escondido, California