Like some reverse Billy Pilgrim, I find myself re-stuck in time.
Once again, we have entered regular liturgical time. There is green on the altar and the rite of absolution has been restored to its usual place in the service after its Easter and Pentecost hiatus. While it would be an exaggeration to say that I find confession enjoyable, I do find it comforting.
To begin with, I like that we perform confession as a congregation: in whole and in unison. In practicing confession as a congregation, I am reminded of the plural pronouns present in the Lord’s Prayer. We recite “forgive us our trespasses” just as we ask for “our bread.” In this way, confession mirrors Eucharist and is performed with the same assurance: if we ask in one voice, we will indeed receive together.
I especially love that contrition, practiced as a congregation, finds a place in regular time. Confession is not just performed during times of solemn preparation like Advent or Lent, but is a regular part of the life of the church. Confession is a normal part of the Christian life. Its regular practice assigns confession to the same category as housekeeping, puts it on the same order as laundry.
Recently, I have found myself again in need of the laundromat. I had not engaged in this weekly ritual since college. There is something a little vulnerable about doing your laundry in public. There is a reason people use the phrase “airing of dirty laundry” to indicate an indiscretion. Apart from the actual washing and drying, one of the main components of doing laundry is the preliminary sorting.
In sorting through my dirty laundry it occurred to me that, while I was doing the laundry because my clothes were unarguably soiled, I sorted them according to the manufacture’s requirements, according to fabric color and type. The purpose of going through the laundry was not so much to get it cleaner as much as to ensure that the garments were well cared for. Darks in cold to protect their color, whites are washed hot to restore their brightness. Delicates need a gentle cycle. I don’t usually sort by soil level. I sort primarily to care, not to clean.
Performing confession in public in regular time encourages us to think about contrition as a duty performed primarily to care, as opposed to clean. It is certainly not unconnected from the idea of dirt and the necessity to wash, but practiced regularly, the emphasis falls on the care of the soul as opposed to the offensiveness of the soil. We identify those places where our souls need special care, to be cleaned certainly, but primarily to be restored. Wrongs we have done. Good we have left undone. Trespasses forgiven others and trespasses we need to be forgiven. There is the sense that this is a matter of regular housekeeping, not a crisis event. There is no lapse or failure in having to regularly wash ourselves clean. Dirt and wear are a part of living in the world.
Julian of Norwich had this view of the human condition. In contrast to the dualism of many of her contemporaries, she had a vision of the human being as a whole person: body and soul. In her Showings she writes, “A man walks upright, and the food in his body is shut as if in a well-made purse. When the time of his necessity comes, the purse is opened and then shut again, in the most seemly fashion. And it is God who does this… For [God] does not despise what he has made.” (Long Text, 6)[1]
Julian’s attitude toward human fallenness is similar. According to Julian, sin is a normal part of spiritual progress. Furthermore, human stumblings are an opportunity for God’s grace to become apparent. She writes, “For our courteous Lord does not want his servants to despair because they fall often and grievously; for our falling does not hinder him in loving us.” (LT, 39) God has extended his love toward humanity because God created humanity in God’s own image. This love assures us of God’s grace toward our failings as demonstrated through Christ’s joining our human suffering. Therefore, we sort through our spiritual dirty laundry in order to experience God’s grace more fully. We identify our failings in order to provide the best care for a soul created in the image of a loving God. In this way, God’s founding love makes the trials of the human condition endurable. We can fail without fear, falling back on God’s founding love.
When we regularly join together to air our dirty laundry, we acknowledge that confession is a part of the normal care of our human souls. The same gracious God who meets us in Eucharist also restores and cares for our falls. As Julian writes, “For [God] regards sin as sorrow and pains for his lovers, to whom for love he assigns no blame. The reward which we shall receive will not be small, but it will be great, glorious and honorable, and so all shame will be turned into honor and joy.” (LT, 39) In this way, we can regularly enjoy the graciousness of God’s table and God’s forgiveness until the time when our journey through this human life comes to an end. Until then, our spiritual progress through life is marked by regular ups and downs, falls and restorations, wear, care and repair.
As Billy Pilgrim might remark, And so it goes.
[1] Julian of Norwich, Showings, translated by Edmund Colledge and James Walsh, (NY: Paulist Press, 1978). All quotes from Julian’s Showings are taken from this volume.
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