My funny story:
I went to confession at not-my-regular-parish one weekend. There was an
ancient priest in the confessional. I honestly don’t even know if he could hear my confession. I didn’t even have anything particularly “bad” to confess… just a couple of things. and venial at that… Should have been 2 minutes in the confessional and be on my way.
Well, he proceeded to give me pastoral advice for** 20 minutes**. This “pastoral advice” consisted of rambling reminiscing of his 50 years of priesthood. Confession was only allocated for 30 minutes. The line was a mile long when I came out and everyone stared at me as if I was Hester Prynne herself in the confessional.
This reminds me of something that happened to me. I was going to daily Mass, and this particular place has confession for a few hours before each daily Mass. Now it was about a 25 minutes, perhaps a bit less, until the Mass. The priest that day was visiting, and he was
extremely old. I sat down and said, “bless me father for I have sinned,” and all that. Before I could get to my sins, he asked me how I was. So I answered. Then, if I am in school or working, and so I answered. Then he asked where I went to high school, after which he began to go on a bit about when he went to high school in the town over about 60 or 70 years ago, what the high school was like when he visited for sporting events. This led in to telling random stories about his life and asking about mine.
About 10 or 15 minutes in, there was a break so I was finally able to tell him my sins. He began to give me advice on one of the points, and then began going off on a tangent again. Finally, when it was about 4 or 5 minutes until the Mass, I interuppted him and said, “I’m sorry father, I am trying to make the Mass that is in a minute here,” and he very kindly said oh, yes, very good, please tell him my sins so that we can finish up.
So I did, and he gave me my penance, and I went to Mass. I always like telling that one.