Msgr. Louis Gaston de Ségur explains that resistance to Confession stems from a guilty conscience and pride, and the best way to embrace Confession is simply to begin it. He shares a moving story of the Curé d’Ars gently guiding a skeptical man to experience the grace of Confession firsthand, encouraging readers to take that step themselves.
The Root Cause of Objections to Confession
Kind reader: Shall I reveal to you, in conclusion, the secret of all the objections which are opposed to Confession—in the mind, in the heart, on the tongue and under the pen of all its adversaries? A spoiled conscience, loaded with grievous faults and inflated with pride. This is the secret, this the mystery. The celebrated geometrician Bougner, whom D’Alembert called “the best head in the Academy,” said on his deathbed, “I have only been an infidel because I was corrupted; let us strike at the root, my Father, it is my heart more than my head that needs to be cured.”
The Best Way to Understand and Embrace Confession
The best means of understanding and of loving Confession is to confess. I shall say more: The best way to prepare for it, like the best way to wash, is to put your hands into the water. This is, in short, the best way to believe in it when one imagines he does not believe.
The Curé d’Ars and the Doubting Gentleman
On the 21st of December, 1858, the good and holy Curé d’Ars, whose reputation for sanctity must have reached you, saw coming toward him, from among the crowd which always surrounded him, a well-dressed man about 50 years old, wearing on his overcoat the rosette of the Legion of Honor. He was an old public functionary. The holy priest heard the men’s Confessions in the sacristy of the church from eight in the morning until eleven, between his Mass and his catechism. He was seated there by a poor wooden table and a little kneeling stool. The gentleman approached and, bowing respectfully, said, “Sir, I am come to talk with you of some serious affairs.” “Good,” meekly replied the priest; “kneel down, Sir,” pointing to the little stool.
“Sir,” replied the other, “I did not come for Confession.” “Then why did you come?” “To discuss.” “You came to discuss? But I know not how to discuss. Get on your knees.” “But Sir, I have the honor to inform you that I did not come to confess. I came—I do not believe—I have no faith, and—” “You have no faith? Poor man!” “I am very ignorant, but I see that you are still more ignorant. I know at least what I ought to believe, and you do not seem to know even that.” “Do what I tell you, get on your knees.” “But it is precisely on Confession that I have my doubts,” replied the gentleman, a little disconcerted; “I cannot confess without believing. It would be a farce, and you would not wish it.” “Believe me, my dear friend, I know that; believe me, get on your knees.” Not knowing how to finish this new kind of discussion, the officer of the Legion of Honor, not half pleased, but impressed by the air of sanctity that beamed from the Curé d’Ars, the stamp of faith which sealed his words, his humble, meek simplicity, put one knee on the stool, then the other. “Say, ‘In the name of the Father, and of the Son, and of the Holy Ghost,’ ” said the holy man, with the authority and goodness of a father. “Do you know how to make the Sign of the Cross?” The penitent, a little confused by the question, immediately made the Sign. The Curé then questioned him, and little by little opened his heart by the all-powerful grace, the secret of which God has given the confessor, and a quarter of an hour afterward the gentleman arose, his face bathed in tears—tears of joy—not being able to refrain from expressing aloud his happiness. Next morning the venerable Curé said to me gaily, while introducing this new son of his heart, “I have played the devil a fine trick here, and this gentleman is well pleased, I assure you. He wants no more discussion.”
Well, let us shake hands, my dear reader; let us part good friends; let us pray one for the other. I wish that you may love and serve God well all your life; and if you have not yet made the first step, may you listen with docility—listen, as soon as possible—to the invitation of some good priest who will say to you, like the Curé d’Ars,
GET ON YOUR KNEES.
ooo
This article is taken from a chapter in Confession: A Little Book for the Reluctant by Msgr. Louis Gaston de Ségur which is available from TAN Books.
