Temptation

Taking him to a very high mountain, the devil showed him all the kingdoms of the world and their splendour. ‘I will give you all these’, he said, ‘if you fall at my feet and worship me.’ Then Jesus replied, ‘Be off, Satan! For scripture says:

You must worship the Lord your God, and serve him alone.’

Matthew 4:8 - 10

'Power tends to corrupt, and absolute power corrupts absolutely' wrote Lord Acton in one of his pithy, well-quoted axioms. The context may well have been the absolute monarchies of continental Europe, but there are more than sufficient contemporary examples: Mugabe of Zimbabwe, Kim Jong-Il of North Korea, Bashar al-Assad of Syria, perhaps Vladimir Putin of Russia. But to a greater or lesser degree there are those in every community, even of our western democracies, for whom the pursuit of power over others is their primary driving force. It happens in an office, workshop, factory, restaurant, fishing boat or indeed - a family - near you.

We all have our temptations. Yet there is a very thin line between achieving your best and doing so by disadvantaging others. Acquiring wealth, fame, qualifications, particular relationships are put forward as goals to be achieved if you value success for yourself or for your children. And yet, claiming them aggressively and selfishly succumbs to four of the seven deadly sins: pride, lust, envy and greed. What each of these deadly sins has in common in the misuse of power. The autocrats mentioned above all began small and by luck, birth, opportunity, alliances, strength of personality and often, great intelligence, they forged their power blocs.

Jesus, in every possible way, presents a model of leadership and life that totally and utterly contradicts what the world proposes: it is a life of service, powerlessness, poverty, generosity, fellowship, compassion, healing, hope, renewal, forgiveness, gratefulness, grace and mercy. In order that his own life is lived to the full, Jesus freely gives of his own life.

If I were to emulate Jesus in my daily life, how would I navigate that thin line - is it greed to want to prepare adequately for a long retirement? How many degrees do I need to do my job efficiently and effectively? Do I use my relationships for my own ends? Do I choose tourist destinations where the local inhabitants are not patronised and economically enslaved? Do I avoid buying products that are the result of animal cruelty, created from unrenewable resources, made by child labour?

We stand on that same mountain as Jesus and we face the temptations he faced. Is the world a more complex place than Palestine in the first century AD? Maybe. Maybe not. The Gospels reveal a highly sophisticated religious society under Roman overlords. There are spies abroad. There are rebels (Zealots), terrorists (sicarii), Pharisees and Sadducees. Such countries still exist.

You and I may not carry the weight of the world on our every decision, but we must accept that we do carry a responsibility to choose well. We must never allow our classrooms or schools to become places where the exercise of power is for personal gain. When we see it misused, be aware that silence is a decision. Choose good. Choose Jesus.

Peter Douglas

Fr. James Martin: Hate confession? Here’s why you should reconsider.

I have a Catholic friend who hates confession. I am not going to break any confidences, but my friend despises confession so much that he hasn’t gone for a decade. He has offered several reasons why he doesn’t go to what is formally called the sacrament of reconciliation. He is afraid that his sins are now too much to confess all at once; he is frightened of what the priest might say (he’s had a few bad experiences); and he is too busy.

My friend is not the only person I’ve met who feels this way. Several years ago, while directing a retreat, I met a woman who said that she hadn’t gone for 20 years. Her reason was also an unpleasant experience with a priest during the sacrament. As I recall, he berated her for not coming in more frequently.

In response, I asked her: “If you had a bad experience with a physician, would you would never see a physician again?” However, even after we talked about her experiences, she was hesitant to return. Our spiritual direction session was brief, and by the time our 20 minutes was up it was time for another retreatant. So, I have no idea if she ever returned to the confessional.

Sometimes I feel nearly tongue-tied in these situations. Not because I judge people in these situations to be bad Catholics, or because I don’t know any helpful responses to these common roadblocks. Rather, it’s because I go to confession frequently. Very frequently. And I like it.

Admittedly, it’s easier for me to do when I live in a house filled with priests, and especially when my spiritual director is a member of my community. If I ever feel burdened by sin, or even a sin, all I need to do is knock on someone’s door and ask.

On the other hand, it’s arguably harder, since these are men with whom I live and, in many instances, work. After confessing your sins to someone, you may see the fellow at breakfast the next morning. Or at an editorial meeting. But that has never bothered me, because I figure that anyone who lives or works with me already knows I am not perfect.

I often ponder what makes me more inclined to go than the people I mentioned. I am certainly not any holier than anyone else—not by a long shot. It’s not that I have fewer sins.

Maybe it’s the frequency. I go to confession once a month, if not more. I’m used to it. Consequently, it ceases to hold any conceivable fear. Something like a person who has a fear of flying taking 50 flights in one year, and then suddenly realizing that he’s comfortable on a plane. He knows there will inevitably be turbulence and can say, “I’m used to this. And it is not as bad as I thought it would be.”

Sometimes I tell skittish Catholics how wonderful it feels to be honest with God in the sacrament. The old argument against confession that you can always tell God your sins is a good one. Of course you can. But often you don’t. Moreover, it helps to verbalize your sins with another person. And hearing the words of absolution, viva voce, is a lot more powerful than intuiting them in prayer. At least for me.

My comfort level may also stem from experiences with confession from the other side. When hearing confessions, and offering absolution, I can see how people feel unburdened. They exhale. They relax. They smile. And I can feel how grateful they are to be forgiven for something they thought was unforgivable. All that makes confession precious to me.

But mainly I like the way I feel afterward, as if God had given me another chance—which, of course, God has. And no matter if I’m hearing confessions or going to confession, I always think of what my theology professor, Peter Fink, S.J., told our class, “Confession isn’t about how bad you are, but how good God is.”

I wish I could invite everyone who has stayed away to come back. And for returnees, I hope you hear some form of what I say to people who haven’t been to confession for years: “Welcome back.”

This article also appeared in print, under the headline "Hate confession? Here’s why you should reconsider," in the 6 March 2017 issue of America. Click here.