Archimandrite Cyprian (Kern)

Confession at a sick person's bedside always takes on a somewhat more intense character than confessions made in ordinary surroundings. Illness often softens a person, humbles his pride and self-assurance, and as a result the sick person readily accepts the spiritual father's advice and counsel. It often happens that only on his sickbed, in the last days of his earthly existence, does a person turn seriously to questions of faith and feel the pangs of conscience. Many feel a belated remorse over “a life lived in vain.” Disillusionment with the enthusiasms and “ideals” of the past leads to a realization of the useless life he has lived.

Sometimes, however, it is otherwise. A person accepts his illness with simplicity and humbly recognizes that this must be as it should. The sick person regrets all that has gone before and strives, at least in the weeks or hours that remain, to cleanse his troubled conscience through repentance; he asks for help, catches every word of the spiritual father as sent to him from above, waits for advice and instruction, and asks to be prepared for the dread hour of death. If death finds a person humble, gentle and open-hearted, the spiritual father can speak to such a dying person especially frankly about the life to come, without trying to calm him with illusory hopes of a quick recovery. With the sick it is possible, and even necessary, to have a conversation that prepares for death; the spiritual father should comfort him with hope and faith, point to the mercy of God, which covers everything, and impress on him that he is going not to a distant and unknown country but returning to his heavenly homeland, to his loving and good heavenly Father. At such a time, rather fewer hard words should be spoken about eternal torment, the Dread Judgment, and the inevitable toll-houses. In the sorrowful minutes before death more comfort is needed, more words about divine sonship, words about God as a loving Father. In the minutes before death it will be good if the spiritual father tells the person about virtuous Christian ascetics who died so easily and peacefully. The priest is called to ease the dying person's sorrow in every way and to give him hope of a bright future, however hard the sick person's last confession may be. It is very good if the priest can so soften the sick person's heart that he may give him Communion several times during his illness.

Sometimes, however, the opposite picture is met with. The priest runs up against the complete spiritual deafness of the sick person. The harmful influences of youth, an enthusiasm for liberalism and materialist teachings (sometimes even for occultism and theosophical doctrines), a complete absence of church life, probably a dissolute life and sins, have so poisoned the likeness of God in the person that the illness before death is for him only senseless torment, and death itself he regards as a merely physical event. Often an uncontrolled bitterness toward others awakens in such people; the inevitability of death throws them into impotent rage; envy and hatred of healthy people awaken; a conscience smothered for years senses nothing spiritual. The priest's voice does not reach his soul; embittered people at once feel a desire to say something spiteful and insulting to the priest, or, at best, to smile sarcastically and declare that spiritual comfort, Communion and confession are the last of their concerns, and that he has long had nothing to do with God, the Church and priests. For such unhappy people the priest must pray with special effort, and ask the Lord for their miraculous conversion, even at the last minute. Let him never lose hope, and let him visit such sick people often too; but with them he must be especially careful “not to become a nuisance,” so as not to give needless occasion for bitterness and for insult to holy things.

In general, a priest must behave with particular tact toward the sick. The priest should talk with the sick person about his illness, his general state of mind, various everyday matters; ask whether the sick person needs material help, and try to help him from the charitable funds of the parish. Then he may ask him whether he would like to receive religious comfort, prayer, or perhaps whether he wishes to confess and receive Communion.

All this demands wisdom and tact from the spiritual father. The sick are often mistrustful and afraid, because they think that Communion is a sign that death is near. The priest often has to hear: “But I'm not going to die yet”; “I don't feel so very bad”; “When I feel worse, Father, then I'll ask you to give me Communion.” The spiritual father must take this into account. No one may be forced in religious life, but at the right time admonitions too are necessary for this. A great responsibility will lie on the priest if anyone of his flock dies without confession and without Communion.

So the spiritual father should strive carefully, delicately and without intimidation to bring the sick to turn to him themselves for help. The spiritual father, for his part, should speak a word of comfort, of hope, of mercy, of the light of the Gospel. Let him not show an inquisitor's severity, not approach sin from a legal standpoint, and not take an accusing attitude toward human weakness. Precisely then will he be able to ease the last minutes of the dying and bring them into the light of Christ.