Confession is Good for the Soul

May 19
by Catie 19. May 2009 04:31

I've had several ideas for new posts running around in my head lately, but this one wins today.

I will attempt to discuss my thoughts on confession without offending anyone, or making absolutist statements that I can't support. Here we go -

Confession is a big deal, when done properly. Its very easy to "confess" to a wrong doing, or take responsibility for Situation X in a way that benefits no one. Someone accuses you of failing in some area, and the natural reaction is to say something like, "Yes, but..." The "but" is the key here, I think - unhelpful confession is the kind that admits culpability while maintaining the opinion that you were somehow justified in doing whatever it is you did. 

I think there are a few reasons for this type of reaction (probably more, depending on the situation). First, it is too easy to focus on the failings of your accuser to the exclusions of your own. We (by "we" I mean people) tend to compare ourselves to one another, mostly in the hope of finding something about us that is superior to those around us. Maybe not *everything* superior, but something to give us a self-esteem leg up. If we are confronted by someone we don't particularly like, or someone with whom we have already begun making these types of comparisons, it seems more likely that we recoil in anger (or something like it) rather than consider the possible truths in the message. Second, being called out on something is embarassing. Regardless of how many people are witnesses, its embarassing to have others know you suck at something. Oddly enough, even though everyone I talk to admits that they mess up at something(s) on a consistent basis, we don't like to have others perceive our failures. Its one thing to tell your friends, "Man, I'm really bad at such-and-such" but an entirely different thing to have others tell YOU, "Man, you are horrible at X." Finally, self preservation plays a huge part in our responses to criticism. We like to maintain our image of ourselves as not perfect, but really not in need of much help to make it.*Actually* confessing to something makes us admit to ourselves that we're not all that and a bag of chips.

For a long time, I was vehemently opposed to what I called "Confession the Catholic way." I thought, "I don't need a *person* to tell me that God forgives me, Jesus took care of all that already!" I was very suspicious of going into a little box and talking (no, confessing) to someone who had no more right than I to commune with God. Rather than actually think through what confession was good for, I dismissed it as outdated and even (sigh) Un-Christian. 

In recent years, as my ideas about Christianity, God, and Jesus have begun to change radically, I've started to ponder lots of issues from what I hope is a more level-headed perspective. I've begun to realize that confession isn't about someone else telling you that you're wrong or even that you're forgiven; it seems to be about becoming vulnerable with yourself and your peers (or whomever you happen to be confessing to) in order to say, "I messed up. There aren't really any excuses other than my selfishness." The benefit of this, I'm starting to realize, isn't that you begin to feel pious all over again and are ready for a fresh start like I used to think. Rather, it keeps you maleable. If you are constantly willing to examine your motives and actions honestly, you are "confessing." Interestingly enough, confession doesn't seem to be something that you have to do out loud all the time; sometimes your issues are internal and no one but you knows you're approaching things with a bad attitude or hidden agendas or whatever. In instances like these, confession keeps you honest with yourself and helps you correct the bad stuff going on inside.

Confession is more about you than it is about anyone else - not to sound like a weirdo, but if you are seriously interested in being a better person (and not in blaming others because you suck), confession is key. You begin to be nicer to other people, your temper-fuse is longer, you start to care about the happiness and well being of others, etc. Confession isn't as complicated as the church makes it sound - it isn't mysterious or hokie. The beauty of it is, if you begin to confess to yourself, you probably have to confess to others less, because you become more mindful of your internal well being.

Ugh. I realize this might sound like a self-help book, but its really not supposed to. I just know that I become bitter, judgmental, and cynical when I don't confess to myself often. I get hardened and wall myself off from certain types of emotions or situations because I don't feel like facing them. It sucks to do it, but its really important for me to make myself. I'm more teachable and less argumentative when I do, and I can see the good in others that my self importance wouldn't let me see before.

I've managed to discuss this idea of confession almost completely separate from religion, and that's something I'm pretty pleased about. One of the things that makes me the most willing to continue pursuing my "relationship with God" (whatever that means) despite my severe aversion to almost all things church related is that God is practical. I believe he CAN and DOES relate to my everyday life - not that I have to split my life in half with the "reality" part and "spirituality" part. Confession is a legit human thing; the church doesn't have a monopoly on its benefits. Confession isn't some mystical religious invention that can't make sense to non-religious (dare I say normal?) people - it is beneficial regardless of your religious affiliation or lack thereof. Note that my discussion of confession was pretty limited to human interactions; confession to God is a completely different topic that I will leave alone today. :)  

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About Catie

Catie (Catherine) Morgan is awesome.  Jk.

Catie Morgan (almost) has her MM in Music Theory from the University of North Carolina @ Greensboro. She is pursuing a collegiate teaching career, maintaining a fabulous relationship with her husband Rex, and decorating the townhouse with the help of Sasha, the mini-dachshund.