Pope Francis the Confessor

There was quite the hubbub made in the press about Pope Francis being caught on camera making his confession during a penance service this last week. Apparently this is the first time a pope has made confession in a public setting like this. I thought this a beautiful gesture on his part, with several salutary benefits to the Church and the world at large.

For one, it puts his money where his mouth has been, so to speak. Pope Francis throughout his pontificate has stressed the importance of the Sacrament of Penance and has exhorted the faithful to avail themselves of it. By being seen himself partaking of this sacrament, Pope Francis gives witness to its power and efficacy. It's like the ultimate celebrity endorsement: "I'm not only the leader of the Holy Catholic Church, I'm also a client."

For another, this public act of penance is one more way to clear up the all-too-prevalent confusion of papal infallibility for impeccability. Papal infallibility means that the Pope cannot err when in a solemn and public act he proclaims some matter of faith or morals to be definitively held by the faithful. Some people take "infallibility" to mean "the Pope can do no wrong, he is incapable of sin or error of any sort." But that would be impeccability, not infallibility. (From the Latin peccatum, "sin.") The Pope is a man, with foibles and shortcomings and bad habits, like any of us. And he knows he is a sinner in need of absolution. By letting himself be seen confessing, he helps us to know it, too, and thus to know the limits of his office: the Pope is our inerrant teacher, but he can still do all kinds of bad things. Just look at the Borgia popes. Or St. Peter, for that matter.

Let's follow the example of Pope Francis. Confess your sins! Be free of their chains! Embrace God's forgiveness made possible through the loving self-sacrifice of Christ! To quote the Oracle from The Matrix, "I promise, by the time you've finished, you'll be right as rain."

Charlie Sheen and the Last Rites

Disney's 1993 version of The Three Musketeers is a family favorite. It's not exactly Citizen Kane, but where else can you find Robin, Jack Bauer, and Charlie Sheen matching wits with Pennywise?

One bit in the movie always bugged me, though. After having dispatched their enemies, Aramis is seen praying over the bodies of the slain and making the Sign of the Cross over them. D'Artagnan asks Athos, "What is he doing?" and Athos responds, "Last Rites. Aramis takes death very seriously." Not that I expect theological accuracy from a Disney movie, but there are several problems with this, and it might be a useful segue to a discussion on just what are the "Last Rites" and what they're about.

The so-called "Last Rites" are the three sacraments that are administered to those who are in danger of death (whether actually dying or in a serious medical situation). The three sacraments are Penance, Anointing of the Sick, and the Eucharist, given to cleanse the soul of sin and its effects, to prepare the recipient in case his life should end, or, if it be God's will, to heal his body and restore his life. Penance forgives sin; Anointing heals from the effect of sin and potentially restores health; and the Eucharist brings communion with God.

One common point of confusion is the tendency to conflate the Anointing of the Sick with "the Last Rites." You can receive Anointing apart from these other sacraments, and just because you're receiving Anointing does not mean you're going to die, or that the priest thinks you're going to die. Though there is some dispute over when exactly Anointing may be given (not wanting to give it either too frequently or too seldom), the Church's practice makes clear that those who are suffering from serious chronic medical conditions and those who are about to undergo a potentially risky procedure may receive the sacrament as a a means of comfort in their time of physical and spiritual trial.

So, after all that, we can see several problems in this scene from The Three Musketeers.

First problem: Aramis is not a priest, as far as I can tell. (It seems that he had had some training of that sort at one point, and I think in some of the later stories Aramis does become a cleric, but at this point, I don't believe he is.) Though any person could bring the Eucharist to someone, only a priest can dispense the sacraments of Penance and Anointing.

Second problem: Even if Aramis were a priest/soldier, he didn't appear to have brought the Oil of the Sick with him in his saddlebags, and thus he couldn't be administering the Anointing of the Sick. And since he doesn't appear to be giving the Eucharist to the dead soldier, or hearing his confession (both of which would be rather difficult for a dead man), then what he's doing can't be called "the Last Rites."

Third problem (perhaps the biggest problem of all): the enemy soldiers appear to be already dead. The sacraments are for the living, to put them into contact with God's grace that their wills may be strengthened to choose to love God. Once you're dead, your life's choice is made, and the sacraments are no longer of avail.

Or think of it this way: A living person is a union of soul and body; when that person dies, the soul is separated from the body (such that we don't even call it a body anymore, but a corpse [and yes, I know "corpse" comes from the Latin corpus meaning "body" but don't quibble with me]). So if a sacrament comes into contact with the dead body, it can have no effect on the person, because, with the soul being separated from it, then in a sense, that body is no longer that person's--nobody's home. (Yes, the soul does maintain a certain relationship to the body after death, but that's a conversation for another time.)

Point being: whatever Aramis is doing, it ain't the Last Rites. But Charlie Sheen praying is a good in itself.

A Plea to Pastors

Some recent news stories have reported an increase in the number of people going to confession since Pope Francis ascended to the Holy See. This is a wonderful thing to hear, and we ought all to pray that it continue. If the spiritual life is likened to the bodily life, then this sacrament is medicine for a sick soul, and all of us are suffering from one sort of spiritual illness or another. We all could use a little booster shot of God's grace now and then!

To extend the analogy, it would certainly help if the clinic were open more often. As much as we talk about the vital importance of this sacrament to the spiritual life, most parishes offer confessions very infrequently: most typically, for somewhere between 30 and 60 minutes right before the vigil Mass on Saturday afternoons. But life is busy, and Saturday afternoon seems a busier time than most: you might have to work, or coach a Little League team, or it may be the only time you can work on that home improvement project without the neighbors complaining. There are 10 thousand and eight reasons why any 60 minute block of time may be unavailable to you in a given week.

And in my experience, often the priest shows up 10 or 20 minutes late. Can you imagine a health clinic that only offered flu shots once a week for 45 minutes? Yes, most parishes also say you can make an appointment to have your confession heard. But have you ever tried actually doing this? Whatever time you suggest, odds are the pastor is in a meeting.

God bless our priests, they're often over-extended and over-worked, I know. My point here is not to blame them. My point is to say that if the Church is serious about its words on wanting the faithful to avail themselves of this sacrament more frequently, parishes should make this sacrament available more frequently. The Church teaches us that the Mass is the "source and summit of the Christian life," and it backs this up by offering four, five, six Masses during the weekend, giving people as much of a chance as possible to partake of the Supper of the Lamb. The Church also teaches that the sacrament of Penance is sorely needed for our spiritual health, and it backs this up by... 45 minutes a week? That doesn't add up.

The leadership of the Church knows this, I think. In his 2002 apostolic letter motu proprio Misericordia Dei, soon-to-be-St. John Paul II, as part of an effort to effect a "vigorous revitalization" of the sacrament, directed the bishops and priests of the Church to ensure that this sacrament be made more widely available to the faithful:

"Local Ordinaries, and parish priests and rectors of churches and shrines, should periodically verify that the greatest possible provision is in fact being made for the faithful to confess their sins. It is particularly recommended that in places of worship confessors be visibly present at the advertised times, that these times be adapted to the real circumstances of penitents, and that confessions be especially available before Masses, and even during Mass if there are other priests available, in order to meet the needs of the faithful."

Now, there are lots of reasons that the number of people partaking of this sacrament has been down in recent decades. The biggest, I'm sure, is the loss of the sense of sin, the dulling of our consciences, the defining-down of sinfulness to "I'm basically a good person... I mean, it's not like I kill people... often." This problem also needs to be addressed. But I'm convinced of the Field of Dreams Principle: "If you build it, they will come." If you offer confession more often, more people will participate. I know that priests are often extraordinarily busy, but would it be that much of a demand on your time to offer other half hour periods during the week, three or four days--heck, maybe every day? Look at it this way: if people come, fantastic, you've been a Good Shepherd and reconciled them to God; if people don't come, you can use the time as a daily period for spiritual reading, prayer, homily prep, etc. Work on your crossword puzzle if you want. But be there for us. You are doctors of grace and we need your ministrations.