Here's the deal: You tell a priest the unvarnished truth about your wrongdoing. And no matter how bad it was, he doesn't flinch. Instead he lifts the sins from your shoulders and turns you onto a path that is better lighted.
The gift of forgiveness is that liberating, says the Rev. Robert Moriarty, who teaches young people about confession at Juan Diego High School in Draper. And while the Roman Catholic, Greek Orthodox and other traditions make penance a formal sacrament, the Rev. Moriarty says God's forgiveness isn't limited to certain denominations. It's widely available.
It almost sounds too good to be true: You mean I can put my sins behind me and start fresh? Yes, says the Rev. Moriarty. But this act does take courage — to examine your conscience and to face how your sins affect the people around you. Penance services, held during the coming weeks of Lent, allow people to come together, to do those two things while drawing strength from the group. That strength then bolsters our vows to move on and away from old mistakes, the Rev. Moriarty said.
At Juan Diego High's penance service last Christmas time, "we had (the students) write a letter to Jesus. And we burned those letters afterward, to let all that stuff go."
The Rev. Moriarty added that he was moved by the young people's honesty. The teens, just like the grade-school children making their first confessions, and like the adults who've been confiding in their pastors for decades, value the confidential seal that protects the sacrament. A priest can never — directly or indirectly, for any reason — share information revealed in a confession. They cannot be asked to supply such information in a court case, and even after the penitent has died, no priest can reveal what was said in the confessional.
If you're among those who had an unhappy confession experience in childhood, the Rev. Moriarty said, consider giving it another chance. Many Salt Lake churches will offer penance services between now and Easter. Usually they're on a Monday or Tuesday evening. "Keep your eyes open in your parishes," he said.
"The people who are most grateful for the sacrament," the Rev. Moriarty added, "are the ones who've been away for a number of years. The penance service is really a renewing experience for them."
After the service come the one-to-one conversations between penitents and their priests. It's a rare dialogue when neither judgment nor punishment is part of the equation.
"In the past, people conceived of (confession) as a judgment," said the Rev. Moriarty. The concept of a judging God that prevailed before the Second Vatican Council in the 1960s daunted more than a few parishioners. But since Vatican II's revisions of Catholic rites, the sacrament of penance focuses not on crime and punishment but on "conversion, growth, growing closer to God."
In the 1970s, face-to-face confession became an option — though not one that many people chose at first. And even today "I'd say 70 to 80 percent still go behind the screen if they have the chance," said the Rev. Moriarty. "It is very intimidating to go into a room with just one person. You're 'on' in there." But slowly, some "are getting into the rhythm of face-to-face confession," or as it's called now, reconciliation. They find "it's good to look another human being in the face and say, 'This is what I did' and have a response to that."
Often the Rev. Moriarty hears parishioners say they "feel so good, so cleansed and right with God. They say things like, 'I'm walking with a lighter step.' " Something he has never heard after confession: "Oh, it didn't do much for me."
John Torgenson, a member of St. Catherine's Newman Center in Salt Lake City, calls confession "one of the best gifts we're given by God." It's a chance to "get everything off your soul, to get a fresh start."
Childhood friends made fun of the ritual. "I used to be all afraid to go," admitted Torgenson, now 22. But he went anyway. "Now it's a refreshing thing . . . a lot of times, the priest will help you work through things."
People of all ages carry a load of apprehension into the confessional, the Rev. Moriarty said. "I've had people who felt they can't be forgiven. They can't believe God would forgive them." It's the priest's role to remind such penitents of the promise made by Christ and his father: "We forgive you of your sins, period. You are forgiven, simply by the fact that you're sorry and you want to move on in a new direction."
Many consider confession to be a strictly Catholic rite, completed in a dark little room. But ministers in other faiths encourage their members to seek its benefits, in a church or rectory setting. Whether it's called confession, reconciliation or counseling, conversations with your pastor about God's capacity for forgiveness are crucial to spiritual health, religious leaders say. When and how often is up to the individual.
"We encourage people to make a confession on a regular basis," said Deacon Louie Koucos of the Holy Trinity Greek Orthodox Church in Salt Lake City. "They come as often as they personally feel is necessary."
It's not a pastor's job to hand down a judgment or make the penitent feel worse. "Priests try to be especially compassionate in the confessional," the Rev. Moriarty said. "You're seeing people in their brokenness." But inside the confessional is where God's love is poured out, giving people fresh strength. "I emphasize that you're moving in the right direction," the priest said.
"It's more of a journey than a destination. And that's why the sacrament is repeatable."
E-mail: durbani@desnews.com