1. The Significance of Confession for Christians.

When I was teaching theology in two of the theological academies in Russia, my

students always gathered with particular interest to hear the lectures on confession, of

which I gave four or more each year. At that period, and also much later, after I had

finished my academic career, people begged me to write these lectures down and then

have them printed. But, since I had only the briefest summary of their contents with me

and I have always been overburdened by work and people, I have not managed to start

working until now. I have always had to write about many things, and the only free time I

had was at night.

At present I am confined in a Uniate monastery and so I have ample time at my

disposal. However, I am afraid that my work will suffer no little detriment from the fact

that I have not even my very short (one might almost say, symbolic) summaries with me,

and of course my memory cannot retain everything that I said in the academy auditoria

nineteen years or more ago. But, putting aside all pretence at a complete exposition of the

subject, I will share with the reader what the Lord helps me to remember.

In a certain sense, confession is a thing which should accompany all of a priest’s

relationships with the faithful. When Christians refer to priests as spiritual fathers, they

are acknowledging the fact that these people chosen by God have the right and obligation

constantly to call their conscience to account and demand that their soul be opened to

them. Of course, as life becomes more complicated and we become more worldly, as do

our flock and our relationships with people, it is not possible in all circumstances to make

use of this right — or rather, fulfill this duty — of our calling. But nevertheless, even

poor Christians admit that essentially the matter should be otherwise. They will never be

reconciled to regarding a priest in any other light than as a mediator between themselves

and God, both in prayer and in the constant struggle between good and evil which is the

lot of each person. This is why even in this age of universal cooling towards faith and

salvation, there do exist priests and monks who always direct their thoughts and words as

if they were talking to penitents at confession, no matter to whom they are talking or

what they are talking about. There are not many of them now, but not long ago, within

our memory, in piously disposed patriarchal village parishes and even sometimes among

educated society, it was possible to meet pastors who were so disposed and so involved

with people that their conversations with their flocks, at home or at gatherings or

anywhere else, could hardly be distinguished at all from their conversation during

confession: salvation of the soul, the will of God, the truth of God — this is what was

always the subject of the intercourse between the pastor and his flock.

A higher example of such relationships is shown by monastery elders, to whom

the brothers of the monastery and also Orthodox Christians from all parts of the world

come to confess their thoughts and receive advice and guidance. The answers and counsel

of the elder are accepted as the voice of God, and people consider going against them as a

mortal sin, like the sin of Adam and Eve. Do not think that such a relationship, or

something approaching it, with one’s flock and even with those coming to confession is

something completely unattainable for an ordinary spiritual father: the majority of our

priests themselves do not realize what a great spiritual force is in the hands of a faithful

clergy. They are mostly brought up apart from the life of the laity and have been among

members of the clergy from their childhood; they know them not so much as God’s

ministers, but rather as their own fathers, relatives or superiors. Thus our priests and sons

of the clerical class in general do not look upon confession with such secrecy, such

trembling and such torture as do ordinary lay people, be they simple or educated. Here

otherwise separated members of our flocks who have nothing in common come together

as one, except of course those who have altogether ceased coming to confession and

turned themselves away from the chalice of Christ.

Perhaps my brother pastors will say to me: “You are giving us Fr. Amvrossy of

Optinai and Fr. John of Kronstadt as examples. What is there in common between the

piously disposed crowd sitting at their feet and my impatient flock, crowding round the

confessional to the number of about 500 people, just so that they can burst in one by one,

mutter a few times “Sinful, sinful” and then rush to get out of church?”

Admittedly there is not much in common here, but worse things can happen. In

some very populous dioceses in the Eastern Ukraine priests hear 15-20 peoples’

confessions at once, and in Petrograd many fathers hear the confessions of everyone in

the church at the same time. Then they offer those who also wish to speak to the priest

separately the chance to do so, but very few people turn out to be such bold Christians

and sometimes nobody does. Each one thinks — “There are 500 of us and if everyone

goes to talk separately then we won’t be finished till morning.”

This is a grievous phenomenon: I will say more -- it is horrifying. But I must

mention one more which is even more horrifying, though for most people this will not be

new information. At diocesan conferences after the first revolution of 1905, in several

places the clergy resolved “to abolish private confession and replace it with general

confession,” i.e. simply abolish confession altogether. This amounts to abolishing the

Orthodox Faith, since without confession the attitude towards religious life as a constant

inner struggle is lost, and it is precisely this which distinguishes our faith from the

Lutheran and Stundistii heresies. Of course, these blasphemous resolutions were not an

expression of the voice and desires of the whole clergy: the majority, I hope, were

horrified when they found out about this insanity on the part of their brothers. But of

course this majority will not dispute the fact that we perform confession ineffectively and

in a disorderly manner, not according to the manner laid down by the Church and not in a

pastoral spirit. The laity is more painfully aware of this, but on whom does it depend to

arrange the matter differently? Who is chiefly to blame that it has fallen from its proper

height? Of course it is us, the pastors. We were and are fully able to prevent the situation

from deteriorating to such a degree; even now we can put it right, if only we desire and

also strive to set to work — before all else, on our own selves. Of what should this task

consist? W

e have already said that clergymen do not fully realize how receptive lay people

are to edifying advice when they stand before them during confession. In order to realize

this clearly, let us consider the fact that the conversation which occurs at confession is an

absolutely exceptional event in the life of the person confessing and of humanity in

general. You see, whenever people have conversations outside confession, especially at

the present time, their aim is to hide their imperfections and display their often nonexistent

merits. The majority of people consider their enemies to be those who have

accused them of something and even those who have found out something bad about

them. On the conscience of almost every person are deeds, words and thoughts which he

would not admit to an acquaintance, even if threatened at the point of a knife; but the day

and the hour for confession comes and he willingly expounds it all to his spiritual father.

Admittedly, he will tell even his spiritual father only after a severe inner struggle, and in

the confidence that the spiritual father will not repeat his confession to anyone. Perhaps

he has avoided confession for several years just because he could not conquer his shame,

his pride; but once he has come, he will crucify himself spiritually and recount his sin.

Think on this, priest of God, and take pity on man and love him. A man is never so fine,

so dear to God, as when he kills his pride before Him and before you. When only this

chief enemy of our salvation, this enemy of God, pride, has been destroyed, the soul of

the person confessing becomes open to receive the holiest thoughts, wishes, intentions

and decisions. Blessed are you, spiritual father, if God tells you things that can help your

spiritual child in the complete or gradual renunciation of his former sins. But “God helps

the laborers and not the layabouts,” says St. Tikhon of Zadonsk, and so you must set as

the main task in your life obtaining experience in spiritual healing, that is, in giving

Christians guidance and instruction in fighting with sin and strengthening themselves in

virtue.

Alas, we must admit that in this matter our clergy are completely inexperienced.

They have been taught everything at school except this most important wisdom, and only

those pastors have it who have obtained it through their own labours, either through

reading the writings of the Fathers and the Holy Bible, or through acquaintance with an

experienced elder, or through prayer and their own experience of observing themselves

and their flocks, but chiefly through their own moral struggle with sin.

We have already mentioned that a spiritual father, in order to acquire skill, must

work before all else on himself; what is this work? Answer: you must come to love

people, to love man at least in those minutes when he has given himself up to you, given

himself up to God. You are hardly likely to meet him in any better state than he is during

those minutes, and if you do not try to love him now, you will never come to love him in

the conditions of ordinary life.

But how can one command one’s heart to have the appropriate feelings if it is

cold? No, it cannot remain cold and unsympathetic if you take the trouble to realize what

it is that you are performing and what is being performed around you; if you do not come

to confession “incidentally,” “by the way,” if you tear your soul away from practical and

family problems at that time. Look what an exceptional honour God has granted you,

what a favour He sends you. You see, neither to his father nor mother, nor wife, nor

friend, nor king will a Christian reveal those secrets of his soul which he now reveals to

Cod and to you. And if a surgeon wields his knife with great care and fear, in order to

perform his necessary but dangerous incisions into the human body, then, of course, you

must tremble and pray many times more that you will heal, and not kill, the immortal

soul.