What does Good News Mean to Me? An Act of Contrition?
Near the beginning of my 1888 Sunday School Companion, I find An Act of Faith, An Act of Hope, An Act of Love, and an Act of
Contrition. Interesting order. First, faith, hope, and love, and only in the end, contrition. I like that. Our culture seems rife with self-hatred, self-critique, self-rejection. I can see how we might need to focus on faith, hope, and love first so that contrition doesn’t become “I’m horrible and worthless and there’s no hope.” Maybe the “good news” resides in faith, hope, and love; faith to trust in the power of truth and love; hope that we can make a difference; love, well love is the healing balm that needs no explanation.
Much of the language of these “acts” does not speak to me.
I especially want to roll my eyes at “I am heartily sorry for having offended Thee” as if it doesn’t even matter that another person was hurt. G’d’s the only one that matters (Because in the Jewish tradition, people don’t speak the name of G’d, I’m using this replacement.) And one part just goes in the trash: “I detest all my sins because I dread the loss of heaven…” Isn’t that like saying, “I could kick myself for mouthing off because now I can’t have the car”? Apparently, the philosopher Levinas has worked hard to avoid the eye-popping selfishness of “virtue” done for gain.
But one thing I do love: each Act begins with “Oh my God!” That’s exactly how I felt yesterday when I realized I had not been “vocal and visible” as my friend Kari put it. Those words are such a meme in our culture—OMG!—that it’s funny to find it at the beginning of sober and orthodox prayers from 1888. I’m interested in this idea of doing an act of faith, of hope, and of love and then contrition. I wonder: could I do them all in one day? They might be really small.
For example, I trust, I have confidence in the people who put together a certain program I’m going to read in. Is that an act of faith? I feel optimistic and hopeful about the experience. I want to do it with love for my fellow participants, the audience, and myself, maybe even “the world”.
And then, contrition. Wow, looking it up, I see contrition includes older meanings of “to rub, wear, scrape away, destroy.” Strong language.
But maybe strong language is needed. I am often burdened with regret. Sometimes even after making amends, I can’t let go of it. Old regrets stay with me: the time I was so rejecting of a nice person in 7th grade. I can still see her hurt blue eyes. And it was all about being popular. It was all about distancing myself from someone low-status. These “sins” (I’m not fond of the word) form a tough, burnt layer that apparently requires major scraping! Maybe that scraping, rubbing, destroying” is needed so that I can not only forgive myself but let go of longterm grudges against others. I strongly suspect the two are intertwined. Hmmm. There’s a lot of freedom in letting both go. A lot of lightness and room for new things to take their places.
Wow! Thank you. I often read the Gospel and reflect in a tiny Anglican Church and have often wondered at the amount of time spent on asking for forgiveness before the service gets underway. I love your thoughts on faith hope and love. Now I need not feel unworthy when I reflect because I love the congregation, I understand their faith and know we live in hope.
I love your post, Kath! Thanks so much for partaking in this little community of discernment.
Oh wow! This is great. One of the best teachers I ever had was Fr. Charles McCarthy who somehow convinced this Protestant-convert-to-Catholicism to teach confirmation. (OK, I went to drop off my daughter and the next thing I knew I was helping which meant that I was a confirmation teacher.)
Anyway, I loved how he explained reconciliation. The priest doesn’t represent God (God, he reminded me, was quite familiar with my sins, as was I). The priest represents the community–the third part of that triangle (not the trinity but the other one). The priest works with me to get me back into right relationship with the community. It all reminded me of Anne LaMott’s quote, allegedly a saying of the early Church, we aren’t punished for the sin but by it.
Am loving these, Lita. Thank you so much!