Father Alexander Elchaninov
“Behold the acceptable time and the day of cleansing.” The time when we can throw off the heavy burden of sins, break their fetters, and see once more, renewed and shining, “the ruined and broken house” of our soul. Yet the road to this blessed cleansing is a very hard one.
We have not yet begun our confession, and tempting voices are already heard in the soul: “Shouldn't you put it off?” “Have you prepared properly?” “Aren't you going to confession too often?” Such doubts must be firmly resisted. “If thou come to serve the Lord, prepare thy soul for temptation” (Sirach 2:2). When you decide to repent of your sins, a host of obstacles will stand in your way, both inward and outward; they vanish only when you show firmness in carrying out your intention.
As for frequent Communion: we should receive Communion much more often than we do — at least during all four fasts. Held fast by sloth and insensibility, we constantly need to learn repentance; that first of all. Besides this, the link between one confession and the next should not be broken. The time between them should be filled with spiritual struggle, effort, remembrance of the impressions of the last confession and anticipation of the next.
Another puzzling question is the choice of a spiritual father. Whom should we go to? Should we keep to one spiritual father, or may we change? In what cases? The fathers experienced in the spiritual life assure us that we should not change our confessor even when he is only a confessor and not a spiritual father — the guide of our conscience. It happens that a successful confession with some confessor is followed by lacklustre and indifferent confessions. That is exactly when the thought of changing confessor arises. But this is not sufficient ground for such a serious step. I say nothing of the fact that our personal feelings at confession have nothing to do with the essence of the mystery itself. Spiritual wavering during confession is often the expression of a turmoil already present in our soul. Father John of Kronstadt says of this: “Repentance must flow freely from the heart; any kind of compulsion is utterly inadmissible.” For a person tormented by the wounds of sin, it is all the same to whom he opens himself, if only he can be rid of them as soon as possible and feel relief. It is another matter if we regard the mystery of repentance as a conversation. Confession and spiritual conversation are entirely different things. A spiritual conversation should preferably take place separately from the mystery of confession, because conversation (even about spiritual matters) may distract and cool the penitent, draw him into theological argument, and weaken the sharp feeling of repentance.
Confession is not a talk about one's failings and doubts, nor a way of acquainting the confessor with oneself, nor a “sensible habit.” Confession is fervent, heartfelt repentance, a thirst for cleansing that springs from a sense of holiness; it is dying to sin and coming alive to holiness. Repentance is already a step of holiness, while insensibility and unbelief are uncleanness and separation from God.
Let us see how we should approach the mystery of repentance, what is required of the penitent, how we should prepare, what we should consider the chief thing.
First of all, of course, the heart must be examined. This is exactly what the days of preparation for repentance are appointed for. “To see the multitude and depth of one's sins is truly a gift of God,” says Father John of Kronstadt. As a rule, people inexperienced in the spiritual life see neither the multitude of their sins nor their “depth.” “Nothing much,” “like everybody else,” “only little sins,” “I haven't stolen, I haven't killed” — this is how many people's confession begins. But are not egoism, impatience in trials, love of delicacies, hypocrisy, lukewarm faith, lack of love, impetuousness and spiritual sloth great sins? Can we claim that we love God with our whole being, that we really have faith, and fervent faith at that? That we love all people as brothers in Christ? That we have already acquired meekness, freedom from anger and obedience? If not, what does our Christianity consist in? How is our self-assurance at confession to be explained, if not by our soul's having “turned to stone, to the point of insensibility,” “having died before the death of the body”?! Why did the holy fathers who left us prayers of repentance consider themselves the most sinful of all, and cry out sincerely to sweetest Jesus: “No one has sinned against Thee as I, foolish and prodigal,” while we are sure that all is in order with us! The more the light of Christ shines in the heart, the more clearly failings, sores and wounds stand out. And conversely: those sunk in the darkness of sins see nothing in their hearts; and if they do see, they do not tremble, for they do not compare their own uncleanness with holiness.
The direct way to knowing our sins is to draw near to the Light and to pray for this Light, “which is the condemnation of the world” (John 3:19) and of everything “worldly” in ourselves. But until we have drawn near to Christ, before Whom repentance is our ordinary state, we must prepare for confession and examine our conscience, and do this according to the commandments, certain prayers and certain passages of the Gospel (for example, Rom. 5:12; Eph. 4; James ch. 3).
In sorting out our spiritual state, we should try not to confuse the chief sins with the sins that flow from them. For example, are not little faith and lukewarm love for God the cause of distraction at prayer, of dozing and inattention in church, of indifference to Holy Scripture? Yes, at confession we must certainly say that egoism, disobedience, self-justification, stubbornness and wilfulness are characteristic of us, that we are irritated by reproaches; but it is more important to understand that these come from egoism and pride. If we notice that we are drawn to society, to clever talk, to irony, to excessive interest in our own or others' appearance, we must examine carefully whether this is not one of the manifestations of vainglory. If the failures of life wound our heart deeply, if we grieve inconsolably for the dead, this shows not only the strength and depth of our feelings but also disobedience to God's Providence.
There is one more aid to knowing our sins: to remember what the people who live beside us, those close to us, usually reproach us for. Their reproaches, annoyance and attacks almost always have some ground.
Before confession it is also necessary to ask forgiveness of everyone we have hurt in any way. We must not go to confession with a burdened conscience.
In such an examination of the heart, care is needed lest exaggerated doubts arise over every movement of the heart; one who takes this path, getting entangled in trifles, loses the ability to tell the important from the unimportant. In such a case we should for a while stop examining the soul, switch to a simple, nourishing spiritual diet, and untangle the knots of the soul by prayer and good works.
Preparing for confession does not necessarily mean remembering and writing down our sins completely. It means reaching such a collected, serious and prayerful state that our sins stand out clearly, as in the light. In other words, we should bring to the confessor not a list of sins but a feeling of repentance, not a thesis worked out in detail but a contrite heart.
Knowing our sins does not yet mean repentance, though the Lord accepts a sincere and honest confession even if it is not accompanied by a sharp feeling of repentance (but among our sins we must certainly confess this too — our state of being “turned to stone, to the point of insensibility”). And yet “a contrite heart,” a sense of one's own sins, is the most important thing we can bring to confession. But what are we to do when our heart, “parched by the flame of sin,” is not watered by the life-giving waters of tears? What are we to do when “weakness of soul and infirmity of body” have grown so strong in us that they do not allow us to repent sincerely? This is not reason enough to put off confession: God may touch our heart during the confession itself; confession itself, the recalling of our sins, may soften the heart, sharpen spiritual sight, deepen the feeling of repentance. In preparing for confession, the best means of overcoming our spiritual powerlessness are fasting, which subdues the body and breaks down the carnal ease and complacency that are deadly for the spiritual life; and also prayer, reflection on death at night, reading the Gospel, the lives of the saints and the works of the holy fathers, intensified struggle with oneself, and practice in good works. Insensibility at confession is caused for the most part by lack of the fear of God and by hidden unbelief. It is here that effort must be directed. That is why tears at confession are so necessary: they soften our hardened heart, shake us “from head to foot,” bring us into a good self-forgetfulness, and destroy the chief obstacle on the path of repentance — our “self-assurance.” The proud and self-loving do not weep. Have you wept? Then your heart has softened; you have become meek. That is why such tears pour gentleness, lightness, purity and peace into the hearts of those to whom the Lord has sent “joy-bringing tears.” Do not be ashamed of tears that break out at confession; let them flow and cleanse your defilement.
The third thing that is also important at confession is to confess one's sins aloud. Do not wait for the confessor's questions; say yourself what has to be said. Confession is a heroic effort, a forcing of oneself. One must speak plainly and not disguise one's sins with general phrases (for example, “I have sinned against the 7th commandment”). Often at confession we face the temptation of self-justification, when we try to explain to the confessor the “extenuating circumstances” and to blame our sins on others who supposedly led us into sin. This must be overcome, as a sign of self-love, impenitence and a sinful state. Sometimes sins forgotten at confession are blamed on a weak memory. It does indeed often happen that we easily forget our falls into sin; but can this be put down to weak memory alone? For we remember for many years the occasions that wounded our self-love or, on the contrary, flattered our vanity, our successes, the praise spoken of us. Everything that makes a strong impression on us is imprinted in our memory long and clearly. And if our sins are forgotten so easily, it means that we do not take them seriously.
The sign of repentance is a feeling of lightness, purity and inexpressible joy, when sin seems as hard and unimaginable as joy seemed only a little while ago.
Repentance cannot be complete unless we firmly resolve not to return to the sin we have confessed. “But is that possible?” people ask in surprise. “How can I promise myself or my confessor that I will not go back to the sin? Would it not be more honest to think that the sin will certainly be repeated? Do I not know from my own experience that after a while I fall into the same sins again? I watch myself for years and notice no good change. There — I jumped, and landed back in the same place!” It would be dreadful if it really were so. But, happily, it is not so. It cannot be that the desire to amend, confessions and Holy Communion produce no good shifts in the soul. The point is that we are not able to assess ourselves; a person cannot judge himself rightly, cannot tell whether he has changed for the better or the worse, because both he himself (the one judging) and what he judges are changing quantities. Increased strictness with oneself, sharpened spiritual sight and a heightened fear of sin can create the illusion that sins have multiplied and grown stronger. In reality they have stayed the same, or perhaps even weakened, but were not felt so deeply before. Besides this, God, by His special Providence, often hides our successes from our eyes, to protect us from the most evil sins of vainglory and pride. It often happens that a sin remains, although frequent confession and Holy Communion wither and weaken its roots. And is not the struggle with sin, grief over one's sins, itself an achievement? “Do not be afraid,” says John of the Ladder, “even if you fall every day, and do not turn aside from the way of the Lord; stand courageously, and the angel who guards you will not disregard your patience.”
Did you feel no relief, no renewal? Then gather your strength again and come to confession; cleanse the soul completely of its defilement, wash it with tears from darkness and vice. Whoever seeks always finds.
Only let us not ascribe our successes to ourselves, not rely on our own strength, not place our hopes in our own efforts. By this we shall destroy everything we have gained. “Gather, O Lord, my scattered mind, and cleanse my frozen heart; grant me the repentance of Peter, the tears of the harlot and the confession of the publican.” Amen.
