C
C.Ray
Guest
I had a very trying experience with confession this weekend, and I am not sure how to feel about it. I hope someone here with greater wisdom and experience will have some helpful advice.
I am new to the area and this was my first experience with confession at this parish. It is an older church, very small and intimate. The confessional at the rear has a door with a large glass window, so you can see the penitent if you happen to look in that direction. I was the first penitent to arrive; I entered the church, and the door was open and the confessional empty, but I wanted to spend a little time recollecting my transgressions before going in, so I took a pew about four rows up from the confessional.
As I prepared, someone slinked into the church and straight away dashed into the confessional. Shortly after hearing the door close, I could hear their voice, laughing, giggling, and at times very loudly describing their sins, feelings, and also many other trivial details completely unnecessary for a good confession. This went on for twenty minutes.
It went on for twenty minutes. Twenty minutes. 20. Minutes.
It is fine by me that the Lord should teach me patience. But I lost my patience, and periodically peeped my head into the window, catching the penitent’s notice, and hoping this would spur this person to wrap up their therapy session. Anyways it made me irritable and angry… angry that the penitent would do this, and that the priest would indulge it, when there were others waiting their turn. I mentioned so much to him. It was an awkwardly silent moment for us.
I would like very much to have a chuckle at this experience, but it still gets my hackles up when I think about it.
I am new to the area and this was my first experience with confession at this parish. It is an older church, very small and intimate. The confessional at the rear has a door with a large glass window, so you can see the penitent if you happen to look in that direction. I was the first penitent to arrive; I entered the church, and the door was open and the confessional empty, but I wanted to spend a little time recollecting my transgressions before going in, so I took a pew about four rows up from the confessional.
As I prepared, someone slinked into the church and straight away dashed into the confessional. Shortly after hearing the door close, I could hear their voice, laughing, giggling, and at times very loudly describing their sins, feelings, and also many other trivial details completely unnecessary for a good confession. This went on for twenty minutes.
It went on for twenty minutes. Twenty minutes. 20. Minutes.
It is fine by me that the Lord should teach me patience. But I lost my patience, and periodically peeped my head into the window, catching the penitent’s notice, and hoping this would spur this person to wrap up their therapy session. Anyways it made me irritable and angry… angry that the penitent would do this, and that the priest would indulge it, when there were others waiting their turn. I mentioned so much to him. It was an awkwardly silent moment for us.
I would like very much to have a chuckle at this experience, but it still gets my hackles up when I think about it.