This evening we went to confession. We figured it would be a nice start to Advent and the liturgical year. It is always an adventure to go to confession with the girls. We try to do the "hand-off" as we switch turns in the confessional.I fondly two remember ironic confession stories: one at the National Shrine in DC and one at Sts. Peter and Paul Church in Honolulu.
At the National Shrine of the Immaculate Conception in DC, there is frequently confession before Mass. One afternoon, Mares and I were going to confession together (pre-marriage days). There are four confessionals located in each of the four corners of the confessional side chapel, off the side of the crypt church. Typically two lines form, one on each side of the chapel, that feed into the two confessionals on the respective side. On this fine day, there was only one active confessional, the two lines basically blended into one, since they were all feeding into just the one confessional. Little by little, Mares and I pass from the line on one side to the line on the other. We're getting closer. The clock is ticking...15 minutes before Mass begins. The line continues to grow behind us. A second and third confessional open up. Woohoo. The line moves a bit faster. A lady (a confessional crusader) who was near the back of the line decided to reform the line situation. She announced out loud to everyone in the chapel that now one line would go to the two active confessionals (on her side) and the other line would go to the other confessional. She justified her fiat command by saying that she was trying to make Mass. I imagine that everyone in the group was trying to make Mass. Either way, the line continued to flow just the way it had before, even after her announcement. She was visibly huffy in the aftermath. We fortunately made it to confession and to Mass. Moral of the story: tread cautiously when trying to upset confessional etiquette.
At Sts. Peter and Paul (located in the center of Honolulu--near our favorite Hawaii mall, the wonderful Ala Moana), confession was start at 4:30pm before the 5pm Saturday vigil Mass. We arrived with Madge in the stroller around 4:20 for confession. There were people scattered throughout the church, but no one was standing in the confessional line. We prayed for a few minutes at a random pew. Still no one had begun forming a queue for confession. I looked at Mare, and, shrugging my shoulders, headed over to stand alone by the confessional. It must have been a classic case of human game theory. As soon as others saw me in line, everyone from around the church made a beeline to the queue. Within a minute, there was a line of 30 people. I felt some people behind me staring daggers. To their justification, they may have been there 2o minutes before me, but what was I to do! No one had made a line! We made it to confession that day, fortunately. Unfortunately, not everyone made it before the confessions had to stop for Mass. Moral of the story: confessional etiquette is important, but don't be afraid to start the line. Otherwise, you may miss the boat.
These stories take us to last night. A line had formed behind the English confessional, but there was no priest. As there was no line at the Spanish confessional, I decided to go in Spanish. I am glad I did, since an English-speaking priest never showed. Moral of the story: talking about your sins in confession in another language can be different, but God's pardon is always there. I hope he rewards us for our flexibility. :)
