Confession

“Bless me Father, I . . .” said Sandy. Then she got stuck. Her throat tightened and her stomach churned. She wanted to tell her big sin, but it was too awful.

“How long has it been since your last confession,” asked the shadow behind the small screen that separated her from her Confessor?

“Two months, Father.”

“Why so long?” asked the priest.

“I was afraid to come,” said Sandy glad for the darkness of the confessional.

“Well, you’re here,” the voice on the other side mellowed. “Good for you.”

Sandy didn’t answer. She was terrified of telling her sin. Past confessions had been easy. They were small matters. After all, every kid disobeys a parent, or fights with a brother or sister. But this time, she had done what she was asked to do, and it was wrong!

The blurred figure behind the screen leaned closer and said, “Were you with someone?”

“Yes,” she answered. “I mean, no, I . . . she asked me for help.” Sandy wanted to tell her sin, but the frog in her throat prevented it.

“What did you help with,” the voice was gentle and calmed Sandy.

“My best friend has trouble with math and . . .” Sandy stopped herself, fearful again.

“You cheated,” the kind voice answered, knowingly.

“I didn’t mean to do anything wrong, Father. She begged me to write the answers for her, just this one time.” Sandy broke down in tears. “I know it’s wrong to cheat, but she’s my best friend.”

“And do you think it helped your friend?”

The dark figure waited quietly, giving Sandy time to think things through. She thought about how wrong she felt. She thought about how her help wasn’t really help at all. Her friend still wouldn’t know how to fix her math problems. She knew cheating betrayed her teacher, too. She answered the priest, “I guess not.”

“How will you repair the damage,” asked the gentle voice.

Sandy thought hard, but found herself caught in a dilemma. If she told on herself, her teacher would punish not only her, but also her friend. Yet if she didn’t make things right, she wouldn’t be able to live with her self betrayal. Tears began to roll hot on her cheeks and she choked out, “Must I tell on myself,” knowing she might lose her friend, too?

“Becoming Christ-like hurts a great deal,” said the priest in a clam firm voice. He paused a moment, then added, “for your penance, say a prayer to the Holy Spirit for strength to do the right thing.”

Sandy sobbed silently as the priest spoke the words of absolution; and just before he slid the little door to the screen shut she whispered, “Thank you, Father.”