To receive the forgiveness of our sins, we must go to confession – that is, make a humble and sincere acknowledgment of our sins. For how could the priest – this judge who speaks in the name of God – forgive what he does not know?
For a confession to be truly good, several conditions are necessary. It begins with an examination of conscience, which is a careful search for the sins committed since the last confession. Once this examination is complete, one must stir up contrition – that is, sorrow for having offended God, not merely out of fear, but out of love.
Arriving at the confessional, the penitent kneels and makes the sign of the Cross, saying: “Bless me, Father, for I have sinned…” Then he confesses his sins with simplicity.
The priest then speaks. He advises, exhorts, encourages – and it is God Himself who, through his voice, speaks to the wounded soul and grants forgiveness. These words must be received with attention and respect, for it is God who speaks through His minister.
It is essential to confess all mortal sins and, as far as possible, indicate how many times they were committed. To deliberately conceal a grave sin renders the confession invalid and adds an even greater sin – that of sacrilege.
As for venial sins, one is not strictly obliged to confess them, but it is wise to do so, since it is often difficult to judge their seriousness. Sins forgotten unintentionally are forgiven by God’s goodness; nevertheless, if they are grave, they must be confessed as soon as they are remembered.
It is not enough to kneel humbly in the confessional and admit one’s faults. One must also repent of the evil committed. Contrition is sorrow for having offended God, joined to a firm resolution not to offend Him again.
For contrition to be truly effective, it must have four qualities:
It must be interior – it must come from the heart.
It must be universal – it must extend to all sins.
It must be supreme – it must make us detest sin above all other evils.
It must be supernatural – it must arise from motives of faith.
Contrition is perfect when it is inspired by sorrow for having offended God, who is so good and who has loved us even to dying on the Cross. Perfect contrition, joined to the sincere desire to receive the sacrament of Penance as soon as possible, already obtains the forgiveness of sins.
Contrition is imperfect when it arises mainly from shame or fear of hell. It obtains forgiveness only when united with the absolution given by the priest.
Absolution is the sacramental formula pronounced by the priest to forgive the sins of the penitent who is properly disposed: “Ego vos absolvo… I absolve you from your sins, in the name of the Father, and of the Son, and of the Holy Spirit.” As the priest pronounces these words, the penitent bows his head and recites the Act of Contrition with devotion. If he has the firm purpose, with the help of God’s grace, not to fall again into sin, he is then, by the power of the sacrament, freed from all his sins.
Yet one must not think that nothing remains to be repaired before God. Sin leaves behind a temporal punishment. Through absolution, the stain is removed, but this temporal punishment remains, for it is just to make some reparation for the offense committed against God.
This reparation is called satisfaction. To make satisfaction – that is, to atone for the temporal punishment due to sins already forgiven – the penitent receives a penance from the confessor, which he must fulfill as soon as possible. It is also good to offer to God the small sufferings of daily life, in a spirit of love and reparation.
You see, then, that when, through your wrongdoing, a separation arises between you and God, you know what to do to regain His grace. Hasten to cast yourself at the feet of the priest, the representative of Christ on earth, and he will say to you those words that restore to the soul the friendship of Jesus and peace:
“God forgives you. Go in peace, and sin no more.”
Once there was a father who lived with his two sons on a magnificent estate. One day, the younger son decided to go out into the world. He asked his father for the share of the inheritance that would fall to him, and one fine morning he set off for distant lands. There, he quickly squandered all his fortune in pleasures and debauchery.
When his companions in excess realized that he had no money left, they abandoned him without remorse. The young man found himself alone, tormented by hunger. Driven by necessity, he hired himself out as a servant on a farm. Each day, he had to perform harsh labor, and the food he received was so poor that, at times, to keep from starving, he would steal the coarse feed he was meant to give to the swine.
In his misery, the prodigal son remembered his father’s house, where he had never lacked anything. “Ah!” he said to himself, “how much happier are the servants in my father’s house than I am! Why should I not go and beg my good father to treat me like one of them, I who am no longer worthy to be called his son?” These thoughts returned again and again, troubling his mind and piercing his heart.
One evening, he could bear it no longer. He left the farm where he had been treated like a beast of burden and set out on the road back to his father’s house.
Since the day his son had departed, the father had not let a single afternoon pass without climbing a small hill from which the whole plain could be seen. From there, he would gaze long at the horizon, searching for his beloved child.
And one evening, as the setting sun reddened the sky, his eyes caught sight of a figure approaching with hurried steps, clothed in rags. “It is he! It is he!” cried the old man, overcome with joy, and, with unsteady steps, he went out to meet his son.
The young man recognized his father. He ran toward him and fell at his knees:
“Father, my father, I have sinned greatly against Heaven and against you. I am no longer worthy to be called your son. Treat me only as one of your servants.”
But the father raised him with tenderness:
“I forgive you,” he said, and he covered him with kisses.
Then, turning to the servants who had come running, he ordered a great feast to be prepared.
“I had lost my son,” he said, “and I have found him again. He was as good as dead, and now he has come back to life. It is fitting, then, to rejoice.”
This story is first of all the story of Adam, the first of all prodigal sons, who, through his fault, lost the state of innocence and happiness in which the Creator had placed him. It is also the story of all of us sinners, who, like the prodigal son, have too often turned away from God’s friendship to pursue empty pleasures.
The father – so loving before his son’s fall, so merciful when he sees him filled with repentance – is God Himself, whose mercy is like a boundless ocean, always ready to receive us in His arms as soon as we return to Him with contrite hearts.