Confession

Today I just had my confession, my first after a very long time.

Rommel had advised me to go to confession prior to next Sunday's activity. It just so happened that San Pedro Church held confessions every Wednesday and Friday of the week at 5:30 PM. 

During the start of the confession, I was observing the people who formed the queue. There were students, senior ladies, couples, and professionals who just got off from work. Most were, I presume, frequent confessors since after the bell tolled to signal the start, most of these guys nonchalantly fell in line outside the confessional rooms.

The session itself was a bit awkward at first: I didn't know what to do or what to say. But phrases from my elementary years came back to me: 

"Forgive me father for I have sinned..."

"My last confession was...I dunno."

"My sins are..."

Of course, I only had two favorite sins. So after I enumerated those, I waited for the priest's advice on the penance. To my surprise, the priest gave a brief talk instead about God loving me despite this, about the importance of getting up every time I fell down, about loving Him by loving the people around us. That was the first time I'd been with a priest who actually gave something to me instead of going through the motions of confession (Don't worry, Fr. Marasigan. You're still the man.)

My education hasn't taught me why you it's better for Catholics to confess to someone instead of to God. Others might insist that the priest in a confession is simply another barrier to be removed. Now, I know better. And yes, I prefer having someone listen to me than endure God's deafening silence. 

Whether that's a good thing or not, I leave that to you, dear reader.