Inside the room, an old Jesuit priest waited for me.
I took a seat. I opened my mouth. But no words came out.
Only a flood of tears. The pains of my soul.
It wouldn’t stop. I couldn’t stop. He asked my why I was crying.
"I don’t know, Father. I don’t know."
He took my hand, cold and trembling, and clasped it with his, warm and comforting.
Then he whispered, "Tears are a gift from God."
Looking back, I think I wasn’t there to confess my sins. I was there to confess their sins against me.
Absolution should have been denied because I could not find it in my own heart to forgive.
~
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2 comments:
awww....*sniff*
sigh. the weight of others' 'crimes' is sometimes the heaviest to carry. and the sad thing is, that they are probably blissfully unaware of their 'sins.' but you know, i still believe in goodness inside people, and the possibility of change for the better. (from Pestilence, eternal optimist)
sad post i know. it was a memory from 2-3 years ago.
anyway, someone wrote me on nov.24, 2007 winpop this:
"confession is a process of tension and conflict. prior to confession, the soul feels the rage of good vs. evil within. and the soul feels heavy. thirsty. alone. sometimes, going to confession is so hard because of the hesitations the soul feels."
" but the center of confession, the absolution of sins, is like a rebirth. the raging sea settles and becomes as calm as a mirror. the darkness diffuses and the sun slowly rises. and the buffeting winds quiet down to a gentle breeze. whereas before even doing the simplest things was so hard, now forgiveness and love seems so attainable."
thank you for that.
oohpestilenceiwannaeatyou!~famine~
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