Slow Journey Away From Rome – Auricular Confession

Following is a Guest Post by Suzanne, who is currently strugging with her Catholic faith. I thank her for her valuable contribution.

The issue of confession is what first began to make me question Catholicism—and I am 30 and have been a willing and devout Catholic my whole life, until a few months ago. I have come to believe that the requirement of individual sacramental confession (auricular confession) puts artificial bounds on Jesus’ forgiveness. Auricular confession can be a great chosen path, and should be available as a choice—for example if someone wants to talk privately about a recurring sin; however, the absolute sacramental requirement for the sole particular ritual is misplaced in many situations.

The type of situation that has been described on this site—getting too close to your confessor—is clearly a danger, both because of the privacy of the confessional and the vulnerability of the confessor, and the stringency of celibacy (which I do not find wrong in itself, but it must be acknowledged that lifelong celibacy is a special condition that should be protected by not adding temptation)—for even a priest devoted to keeping proper boundaries might find himself sorely tempted when confronted with the intimacy that auricular confession requires.

There is something amiss in a system that exclusively requires priestly confession, and I am thinking in particular of, for example, a 14 year old girl who is struggling with sexual sins like masturbation. Imagine the difficulty of a 14 year old girl confessing that sin, out loud, to a priest who is probably twice her age. But the alternative is to risk burning in hell.  Is this kind of choice between deep embarrassment and hellfire really the reason why Jesus came? The "secret" confession available (with the screen) is an illusion, because our priests know us and they know our voices. And how difficult must it be for priests to hear parishioners detailing their sexual sins over and over, when they are vowed to be celibate!

The specific rite of auricular confession is not as old as the church itself and in fact it is much newer. When I turned 30 this year, I began to question why I, a grown woman, must tell my most embarrassing deeds to a priest—who I may have gone to college with, who I drank with at parties—and have him hand out penance to me when he knows nothing about the strains of being a mother, being a woman, being a wife—any of it.

Many Protestant churches offer a general confession, where parishioners admit and confess their specific sins to God in their heart, and the priest offers the Protestant version of "absolution." This option exists in the Catholic church as well, but it is rarely offered. I believe many more souls would actually confess and repent of their sins if this option were offered, because it preserves the dignity and modesty of the individual. I personally feel that this is particularly true in the case of young girls, although any demographic may have serious issues with confessing to a priest, for many reasons.

In my prayer and study I begin to know Jesus as the One who is with us in these dark times—the continual process of sanctification—and He is with us whether we sinned two minutes ago or two years ago. God is God of the desert as well as God of the mountaintop.

Do Priests and Bishops Have a Superiority Complex?

I came across an interesting article today on Max Lindenman's blog, Diary of a Wimpy Catholic, called Clerical Narcissism: Myth or Mess?

My answer: BOTH. By "clerical narcissicm" he refers partially to bishops covering up sex abuse scandals that have been in the news for 10+ years now, but also a root cause of it: the belief that bishops and priests believe themselves to be superior to other members of the church, and certainly to lapsed Catholics. (It's worth noting here that one reason people have left Catholicism is because of the abuse AND the cover-ups.)

However, he delves deeper into the issue, citing mandatory celibacy as a reason for narcissism by putting forth inhuman asexuality as the ideal. And, if priests and bishops are practicing this, the "ideal," they may accidentally tend to have a superiority complex toward others who are not.

But what makes this article so thought-provoking is Lindenman's Devil's-advocate approach to the issue, stating: "I am curious to know whether a certain excessive self-regard might be a priestly occupational hazard." He means this as an honest question, not a put-down or assumption: he truly wants to know. Further down he writes, "The mistakes of the institutional Church have much less interest for me than the experience of the individual priest, whom I take on faith to be an essentially good guy who wants only to do right. If any Church norms or practices do, in fact, encourage priests to adopt a narcissistic self-concept, I am assuming they adopt it unwittingly and probably unwillingly."

Personally, I agree with him wholeheartedly. Narcissism is a job hazard of the priesthood, but it is also a job hazard for many other professions--especially professions where people tend to believe their job is their near-total identity. Even little things in all of our daily lives can cause us to be narcissistic. And, despite my own run-in with a priest that I write about on this website, I too believe that most priests are trying to be a good guy and do the right things. I will even say this is true of the of priest I have written about.

And yet, the Church does foster narcissism in the clergy, intentional or not. One brilliant commenter stated that hearing Confessions humbles the priest because he hears sins that are his own and is reminded of them. This could be a post in and of itself. Hearing confessions, on the other hand, can certainly foster a sense of superiority--imagine the power inherent in being the mediator between the sins of the laity and God Himself.

Being alone, though, compounded by being at the whim of one's superior (there are many hierarchies in the church) for not only your livelihood, but your reputation, your identity, your living quarters, can be the toughest job of all.

I would be sincerely interested in what priests themselves have to say about this. Please comment respectfully.