1 of 5 pieces read at Confessions. Next reading is on Sunday November 12th. Follow us for updates.
CONFESSION
When I was a little girl, I was always nervous about going to confession. But I wasn’t nervous because I had something serious to confess, I was nervous because I didn’t. I felt as though my confessions would be a disappointment. I was embarrassed that I didn’t commit serious sins. Sure, I sometimes didn’t honor my mother and father. Sure, I told white lies. Sure, I would covet, I was jealous of other kids when they had something that I wanted that didn’t have. But my sins felt so boring. I was embarrassed to confess such banal sins, to say these trite things that, of course, every child did, confess them as if I actually felt like it was a confession. Confession itself became a lie. Funny. Maybe that should have been my confession. “Forgive me Father, for I am sinning. I am lying through my teeth as we speak, because this thing which we are calling confession, which I am agreeing to call confession, doesn’t feel like confession at all.”
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