AN UNUSUAL CONFESSION STORY.

Homily for the 8^th Sunday in Year C, March 3^rd, 2019: Luke 6:39-42  

During Pope St. John Paul’s papacy, an American priest was attending a conference in Rome. Following the last session, the priests were to meet with the pope. So on his way to the final session, the priest decided to stop by a church. As he climbed to the entrance, he threaded his way through a number of beggars seated on the steps. One of them looked familiar somehow. While he prayed in the church, he couldn’t stop thinking about the man he had seen. When he emerged, he approached the beggar. “You look so familiar. Do I know you?” he asked. “Yes”, the beggar replied. We were in seminary together.”

        At the end of the papal audience, each priest approached and received a blessing. The American priest, still undone by his encounter with the beggar, blurted out the story to John Paul. As all the priests were leaving, the Pope’s secretary singled out the priest. “His holiness would like you to join him for dinner tonight – with your friend”. The priest raced back to the church hoping the beggar would still be there. He was, and the priest told him of the extraordinary invitation. The beggar was aghast. He could not possibly have dinner with the Pope – “Only look at me,” the beggar priest pleaded with him.  

“You can use my hotel room for a shower,” the American priest replied, “and I have clothes that should fit you”. 

         After a lovely dinner, the Pope’s secretary motioned the American priest to come out in the hallway with him, leaving the beggar and the Pope alone at the dinner table. The papal secretary and the American priest walked up and down for a full fifteen minutes. As soon as the beggar emerged, the American priest could contain himself no longer. “What went on when you were with the Pope?” the American priest asked.

“After I'd made my confession, the pope asked me to hear his confession,” the beggar replied. “I was stunned. That’s impossible,” I said. “I’m no longer a priest in good standing.” 

“I’m restoring you to good standing,” John Paul replied.

          “But,” the beggar stammered, “I’m a beggar”.

          “We are all beggars” said the Pope. “And so I heard his confession.”

            When the two men got out into St. Peter’s Square, the American couldn’t wait to ask: "You’ve been gone now for 15 minutes. What on earth took so long?”   

         “After we’d both confessed to each other, "the beggar replied, "the Pope told me he wanted me to accept an assignment as priest for the beggars of Rome.”
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 Let’s talk about confession for a moment. Have you ever thought about how much easier it would be to prepare a list of sins for someone else to confess – especially if that other person was someone of whom you’re highly critical – than to list all your own sins? That would be much easier, wouldn’t it?

That’s what Jesus is talking about when he says in today’s gospel: “You notice the splinter in your brother’s eye, but do not perceive the wooden beam in your own.” He is warning us about something we’re all guilty of at times: being alert for even small faults and sins in others, while overlooking much more serious sins of our own.

          The Lord has given us the remedy for those sins: the sacrament of penance, or confession. One advantage of sacramental confession is that it forces us to confront our own particular sins, not to be content with simply confessing that we are sinners in general. And in confession the priest has an opportunity to help us with our own particular sins and difficulties. So many people today feel that they’re “just a number.” In confession we’re not just a number. The priest is there for you personally, as a unique individual. But first you must come.

          Speaking for myself, I can tell you that without the sacrament of penance, or confession, I would not be a priest today. What a relief it was in the difficult years of adolescence – and more than a relief, a deep joy – to be able to go to a priest, tell him my sins, hear the words which assured me of God’s forgiveness; and then the beautiful closing words: “Go in peace, the Lord has put away all your sins.” Those words touched me so deeply that I still say them today, at the close of every confession I hear.

         Many Catholics think of Confession as something like going to the dentist: something we don’t particularly like, which will probably hurt, but which we know is good for us; and afterwards we’ll feel better. In reality, the sacrament of penance or reconciliation is so much more. It is a personal encounter with One who loves us beyond our imagining – as intimate as receiving the Lord’s body and blood in Communion. In Confession we receive, along with forgiveness, the love of the One who is love himself. His name is Jesus Christ.