Through my fault, my most grievous fault. The Confiteor.
I am re-reading Kathryn Hulme’s novel “The Nun’s Story”.
Sister Luke, the main character of the novel, describes the weekly culpa, or ritual of proclaiming one’s faults.
“..and all of it [ note – the confession of faults] sounded like trivia wrought out of senseless scrupulosity until your turn came and until you felt beneath your scapular the white-hot burn of humiliation which told how much of your pride was still alive within you and how far away was that perfection in humilty…”
This sense of pride is one area that leaves a sting within me and encourages me to go to Reconciliation or Confession.
As a convert, the Sacrament of Reconcilation seemed strange to me at first. But there is a beauty, a sense of grace, yes, sacramental grace, within the sacrament . A grace that I could never have imagined before becoming Catholic.
A Brethren friend and I were discussing Confession and she wondered aloud if this really was just a measure of control, of the Church having control over us all in general, and of men having control over women in particular.
But I doubt it.
I see instead the peace and the grace. It is not forced but something that helps one in developing charity. Makes one better. Makes the world better.
” The word reconciliation is rich in meaning. It suggests the gift of God’s forgiveness and the removal of the barriers we place between ourselves, our community and our God. Reconciliation means the rebridging of the gap between God and us and between ourselves and others. It also suggests the deep peace that comes from being brought back into harmony with God, with sisters and brothers and with the whole of creation. “