A few weeks ago, our priest included a handout in the bulletin with instructions on how to make a good confession. It listed the Ten Commandments. Breaking one is a mortal sin. Everyone knows that. All this time, I thought I was safe because I took the meaning of the Big Ten literally. No killing, no stealing, no adultery, etc. But this list contained subcategories under each commandment. Subcategories? Really? Halfway through reading the list, depression set in. Being angry and resentful fell under the kill category. Being angry with God fell under taking the Lord’s name in vain. Gossip fell under bearing false witness. All along, I thought these were venial sins. Well, evidently it’s not. By the time I finished reading the list, I felt like the worst person in the world. I envisioned a humongous, dark mushroom cloud of iniquity rising up in the sky and darkening out the sun, preventing God from ever seeing me.
I started reflecting on my entire life, going all the way back to when I attended St. Mary’s School and later high school. There were times when I asked a friend if I could copy her answer to one of the hard homework questions. It wasn’t that I didn’t do my homework, but it always seemed that some questions were so confusing that the answers seemed unattainable. I certainly didn’t want to turn in my paper without answering every question, so I guess I sort of cheated. Who am I kidding? I flat-ass cheated. At the time, I didn’t think of it as cheating. It felt more like survival. Or the time I sneaked my half-finished dress out of my home-ec class to bring it home so my mother could fix my mistakes. She was an amazing seamstress. I was not. We were being graded on our creation. Not only did I want to make an A, but I couldn’t wait to wear that dress. The material was spring green dotted swiss. It was fitted, sleeveless, and had a white sailor collar. In fact, I’d wear that dress today if I still had it. My mother never asked any questions; she just fixed it and made an A on that project. Again, the purpose of doing this was survival, even in the loosest sense of the word.
So, here’s my question: Why was I receiving this subcategory list now in my later years? It seems like it would have been taught to us at St. Mary’s. Maybe it was, and I wasn’t listening, but I don’t think so. I was too frightened not to listen. So, now I’m faced with confessing every sin from my younger years. I’ll have to bring knee pads to confession.
I felt a little better the other day after listening to one of my favorite celebrity priests on YouTube. He said to always remember that we’re all trying to survive because life is tough, and we’re all in this together.
Amen to that.