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CONFESSION Motives of Contrition
It belongs to You, my God, to give me the
sorrow which without Your help I cannot have.
Will You refuse it? No father will give his
child a stone if he asks for bread, or a serpent if
he asks for fish. If we, then, being evil, know
how to give good gifts to our children, how much
more will You, our Father in Heaven, give good
things to them that ask You. Give me, my
Heavenly Father, what I ask. Give we what I
desire —an interior knowledge of my sins and an
abhorrence of them. Give me shame and confusion, give me great and intense grief and tears
on account of my many sins.
It belongs to You to give me what I desire;
but it belongs to me to show I desire it, to weigh the motives, to
be sorry because of the punishment my sins have deserved, because of Christ in
torments and death for my sins, because of the
outrage to Your infinite goodness by my sins.
HELL
If I have ever committed a mortal sin, I may go
down to the gates of Hell, and looking through
the bars of the prison-house, see what that sin has
done. The moment I sinned, a place was prepared for me there. I may imagine that my name
was written over it, and that the devils as they
passed it knew it as mine. Let me see it and its
surroundings. Above it Heaven, from which I
was shut out. Below, the horrors of the bottom-less pit. On every side the sights and sounds of
that land where no order but everlasting horror
dwelleth, the devils, and all that is most loathsome
in human wickedness. And infinitely worse than
all the torments awaiting me from without, the
agony of remorse, the maddening despair, the loss
of God, which in itself is Hell. All this prepared
by me, my own deliberate choice when I chose to
separate myself from God. For God is all good.
There can be no good apart from Him. If we
will not have Him, we cast away all good. In rejecting Him, I tore
myself away from everlasting joy and gladness; from consolation, and
peace, and security, and light, and love. What
is there left for the lost, for those who have lost
God, but darkness and destruction, everlasting
misery and despair?
It is from this that the patience of God has
saved me. It waited and bore with me, and at
length won me and saved me. I am here still
with my chance of Heaven. I may say, "My God
I am sorry," for He is my God still. I may look
up and say, "Our Father, Who art in Heaven."
It was for me, for me that the patience of God
provided the Sacrament of Penance. Know you
not that the benignity of God calleth you to
penance? 0 patience of my Creator, I grieve
from the bottom of my heart for having sinned
against You so sorely. I thank You for saving
me from the punishment my sins deserve, for
making even the prison-house of Hell a point
from which I may spring up to my God and be
forgiven and taken back to His Heart. If ever
through my fault I should forget His love, at
least let the fear of punishment keep me from
falling into sin.
HEAVEN
If I have ever offended God by grievous sin, I
may go up to Heaven and, looking through its golden gates, see what my sin has lost. There
of the many mansions of my Father's House to one prepared from all eternity for me. On the
jay of my Baptism it was set apart for me, my
name was written over it, and Angels and Saints
as they passed to and fro knew it was mine. To
secure it for me, the providence of God has ordered all the events of my life, and all His wisdom
has been employed in furnishing it for me.
On every side are the joys and delights which
eye hath not seen, nor ear heard, nor the heart of
man conceived; the rejoicing throngs of the
Saints; the blessed company of the Angels. Above
all, Mary Queen and Mother, in all her glorious
beauty. Higher still, the Sacred Humanity—the
Lamp of the Heavenly Jerusalem, the Blessed
Trinity, Father, Son, and Holy Ghost, the unveiled Face of God. All this mine, offered to me,
prepared for me. All this deliberately thrown away
by me—for what? And the patience of God
bearing with me, waiting for me, offering me His
Kingdom again and again, as often as I chose to
accept it. 0 my God, I fall on my face before
You. I grieve from the bottom of my heart for
the sins by which I have lost the place in Your
Kingdom You have prepared for me, by which I
have lost You and the eternity I was to spend
with You, before Your unveiled Face.
THE PASSION
The sight of Hell and the sight of Heaven can
show me something of what sin is, but not as the
Passion shows it. They move me to contrition
but not as the Passion moves. Let me go to
Gethsemane, or to the column of the Scourging
or to Calvary, if I would learn the hatefulness of
sin and the patience of God, and so be led to a
true and tender contrition.
In the dark Garden let me see,
Beneath the olives moon-pierced shade,
My God alone, outstretched and bruised,
And bleeding on the earth He made.
And let me feel it was my sin,
As though no other sin there were,
That was for Him Who bears the world,
A load that He could scarcely bear.
0 Jesus, when my heart is hard and sorrow
comes but slowly, let me find my way over the
brook Kedron, up the slope of Olivet into the
lonely Garden of the Agony, and there learn
what the sins of my life and the absolutions of my
life have cost You.
God has always required for forgiveness of sin,
contrition, confession, and satisfaction.
In the Garden I see Our Lord as the Model of
penitents. I hear His cry of sorrow, My Soul is
sorrowful even unto death. I hear His confession
when, recognizing in Himself the likeness of sin
and the victim of the Father's anger. He cries out
in His fear. If it be possible, let this chalice pass from Me. I see His satisfaction in the sweat of
blood which His interior conflict draws from
His sacred Body.
0 Soul of Jesus, sick to death,
Thy Blood and prayer together plead,
My sins have bowed Thee to the earth,
As the storm bows the feeble reed.
I grieve for my sins, for all my sins; I grieve for that drop in Your cup of agony which was
my contribution to the Passion.
THE PRETORIUM
Let me go down the slope of Olivet and cross
Kedron once more, and taking my course northward enter the Pretorium of Pilate, and fling myself on my face before
the column of the flagellation. Let me hear the sound of the whizzing
scourge, weighted with my sins. Let me lie
there till the five thousand stripes have paid the
price of my absolutions, and I may go away free,
leaving Him on the pavement in a pool of the
Precious Blood. Ah, Lord, shall I not at least
leave my heart with You— broken by sorrow
as I should wish, but still truly penitent—the
contrite and humble heart that You will not
despise.
CALVARY
It was long ago, two thousand years nearly.
But there was a day and an hour when a cross
was raised outside Jerusalem, with One nailed
upon it to die a malefactor's death. Let me take
my crucifix in my hand and consider attentively
what a death that was. Has ever malefactor
suffered more than He? Think of the scourging
that went before; think of the crown of thorns;
look at Him now, nailed to the cross—the living
Flesh nailed by the huge spikes driven through
them into the wood. The gentlest handling of
those wounds would be agony, and He has to
hang upon them with the whole weight of His
body for three hours— until death.
Look at Him—see the tortured head; the dull,
glazed eyes; the parched lips; the quivering limbs;
the ever-widening wounds. Think of the intense
thirst; the dislocated bones; the agony of every
nerve and muscle. Could you look unmoved upon
the worst of malefactors in such a pitiable plight? And is He a malefactor? No.
Why, then, is He here? For me—in my place
—to suffer the pains due to my sins. He is here,
hanging on the cross, to teach me what sin is—
what sin deserves—to what my sins have brought
Him. If ever I have committed one mortal sin,
I have had a distinct share in bringing about this
death of pain and shame. See how uncomplainingly He suffers in every member of His body, in
every faculty of His soul. See how the Divinity
withdraws Its support from the Humanity except
to enable It to suffer more. See how willingly
He endures all this—for me, to atone for my sins
to satisfy the Father for me, to win me the
absolutions of my life.
0 Jesus, I fall on my face before Your cross to
ask for an intimate knowledge of the hatefulness
of sin, to ask for grief, tears, and a sense of pain
in union with You in torment, debased thus in
order to die for my sins.
Can I doubt that the fruit of Your Passion will
be the full remission of all my sins, that if they
be as scarlet they will be made as white as snow?
He that spared not even His own Son, but delivered Him up for us all, how will He not also
with Him give us all things—give me His forgiveness and His peace?
He fell upon His face, praying. (St. Matt.
xxvi.)
He fell flat on the ground and He prayed. (St.
Mark xiv.)
I look at the Tabernacle. He is there. Who
on a night long ago lay prostrated on the ground
in the Garden of the Agony. The Joy of Heaven and earth in agony! Why,
Lord? And He tells me why.
I fell down before the Lord for all your sins
which you had committed against the Lord and
had provoked Him to wrath. For I feared His
indignation and anger, wherewith being moved
against you, He would have destroyed you . . ..
I lay prostrate before the Lord . . . I humbly
besought Him that He would not destroy you
. . . And the Lord heard Me and would not
destroy you.
0 all-prevailing Prayer of my Saviour, I bless
you, I thank you, I put my trust in you. What
else did you win for me, 0 Divine Prayer, or
rather by what means did you win for me that
Mercy of God through which I am not consumed?
—By winning for me the grace of contrition for
the sins which have provoked the wrath and
indignation of my God. Give me, 0 Lord, give
me now the fruit of that Prayer. Give me a
deep, tender, hearty contrition for my sins—all
my sins, for everything great and small by which
I have angered, and grieved, and disappointed the
Lord my God, Who even when I offended Him
bore with me, and waited for me, and would not
destroy me—because of my Saviour's Prayer.
If the Jews had had a spark of generosity in
them, they must have been moved by the touching words of Moses when,
with his great disappointment fresh upon him, he made his last appeal to
them in sight of the Land of Promise, the goodly
land, which he was not to enter, because—he gives
them the reason: He hath been angry with me on
your account.
He was on the borders of that Land to which
all his desires had tended, towards which he had
patiently guided his stiff-necked people for the
space of forty years, in which he expected to see
them established: I besought the Lord, saying,
Lord God, Thou hast begun to show unto Thy
servant Thy greatness and most mighty hand . . .
I will pass over, therefore, and will see this excellent land beyond
the Jordan, and this goodly
mountain and Libanus. And the Lord was angry
with me on your account, and heard me not, but
said to me: It is enough: speak no more to Me of this matter. Thou shalt not pass the Jordan
. . neither shalt thou go in thither.
His hope cut short by a word. The desire of his life denied him just as it seemed to be realized.
Punishment when he looked for reward. This,
then, was the recompense his people brought to
him, their leader and their prince, the lover of his
brethren, who had stood in the sight of God to
speak good for them and to turn away His indignation from them. And there is no word of remonstrance, no repining, only that gentle
reminder: The Lord was angry with me on your account.
My people!—I kneel under the cross and look
up. I look upon that worm and no man, the reproach of men and the outcast of the people. I
see the thorn-crowned head drooping on the breast
—the hands and feet dug through—the parched
tongue—the cheeks wet with mingled blood and
tears. The whole head is sick, and the whole
Heart is sad. From the sole of the foot to the top
of His head there is no soundness therein: wounds
and bruises and swelling sores.
Why, Lord? The answer comes from the dry
pale lips: The Lord was angry with me on your
account. On my account. For me the thorns and
the nails, the vinegar and the gall, the wounds and
bruises and swelling sores. All this for me.
I pass within the veil and tremblingly I look into
that soul. I see its anguish—the disappointment
of its unrequited love—the darkness of its dereliction. I hear its desolate cry: My God, My God
why hast Thou forsaken Me?
Why, Lord? The Lord turns angry with me on,
your account. All this for me. He loved me and
delivered Himself for me. I look upon Him
Whom I have pierced—on Whom my iniquity has
been laid—by Whose bruises I am healed. 0
Jesus! and I find it hard .to be sorry for my sins.
Take away my stony heart and give me a heart of
flesh, that I may turn at last to Him Who has
loved me even to the death of the cross—turn to
Him, and cleave to Him with all my heart and
soul and mind and strength, that neither death nor
life, nor things present nor things to come, nor
any other creature shall be able to separate me
from the love of God which is in Christ Jesus, my
Lord.
THE PATIENCE OF GOD
Patient and of much compassion. (Exodus
xxxiv.)
You are called, my God, a strong and faithful
God, keeping His covenant and mercy to them
that love Him and that keep His commandments,
. . and repaying forthwith them that hate
Him, so as to destroy them, without further delay, immediately rendering to them what they deserve.
Why, then, have You been so patient with me? Why has there been so much delay
and no rendering at all to me what I deserve? 0 strong and
faithful God, if I had loved You always as You deserve to be loved,
if I had kept Your Commandments faithfully, could You have shown Yourself
more faithful than You have? Can I find it in
my heart to grieve You always? Can I hold out
to the end against You, 0 strong and faithful
Lover of my soul?
GOD INFINITELY GOOD
We cannot understand what sin is because we
cannot understand what God is. And yet the
attribute of God which sin outrages most directly
is the one that impresses us more than any other
—His holiness. We fear it more than we fear His
wisdom, His power, or even His justice.
It was the holiness of God from which Adam
and Eve sought to hide themselves, amidst the
trees of Paradise, after their sin.
If when our Lord came amongst us, the little
children swarmed around Him, and publicans and
sinners pressed upon Him, so that their company
was made a reproach against Him, it was because
He veiled His holiness. When for an instant He
let its presence be felt, all men quailed before it.
Peter felt it after the miraculous draught of
fishes. It was the holiness rather than the power
of our Lord that impressed him and made him fall
at Jesus knees and cry out: Depart from me, for
I am a sinful man, 0 Lord. The centurion felt it
when he said: Lord, I am not worthy that Thou
shouldst come under my roof, say but the word,
and my servant shall be healed. The soldiers and
the priests felt it in the Garden, when they went
hack and fell to the ground. At the Last Day it
will be the holiness of God that will terrify the
wicked and make them cry to the mountains and
rocks to fall upon them and hide them from the
wrath of the Lamb. The angels are not pure in
His sight. Before His throne the eternal song is
Holy, Holy, Holy, as they cover their faces with
their wings.
0 holiness of God, I fall on my face before
You, to ask for contrition for my sins. Have mercy on me according
to Thy great mercy! 0 God,
be merciful to me, a sinner! Which of Your Divine perfections, I wonder,
will most overwhelm me when I stand before You,
my God, the first moment after death? Will it be
Your holiness? Will it be Your wisdom or Your
justice, Your beauty or Your sweetness or Your
love? All these will penetrate me through and
through. But, oh, I think it will be Your patience,
the patience that has borne with me all my life
through, which will so stir my soul to its depths
that but for its immortality it would sob itself
away at Your feet. There will be no want of
contrition then. Oh, that the contrition of that
hour might be mine now!
And thus by hell, by Heaven, by Olivet, by
Calvary, by the heights of Your ever blessed perfections, I climb to You, my God.
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