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I entered the confessional after a weekday morning Mass, in need of a spiritual cleanse. Burdened by a couple weeks' worth of sins, largely of pride, I experienced the pull of God's grace to 'get in the box.' Recognizing a familiar angst - my human nature telling me I didn't really need to do this - I said a quick prayer of thanksgiving for that grace of God, as I entered and knelt down, and began my confession.
In all honesty, confession and the examination of conscience can take on a bland flavor, especially when done insincerely, even mechanical. I tried extra hard today to avoid the rote, mechanical approach. I needed to get some stuff off my chest.
The really beautiful thing about the Sacrament of Reconciliation is that, notwithstanding perfect or imperfect sorrow for my sins, God is there, in the person of the confessor, always ready and waiting to forgive me. I think of the Fifth Sorrowful Mystery of the Rosary, the Crucifixion and Death of Our Lord: the spiritual fruit of this mystery is pardoning of injuries. As Jesus hung on the cross, he knew my sins and, at that time, forgave them. The thought almost always brings me to tears; Lord, I am not worthy. It was no different today.
"For your penance, say the Litany of Humility, three times."
I was a bit taken aback. A prideful soul would be taken aback by such instruction. "I must be really bad," I thought. This penance, quite a difference from "three Hail Marys" made an impact.
I obtained a prayer card years ago with the Litany of Humility printed on it. While I didn't have it with me, I also have the Litany bookmarked in the Laudate app on my phone, so I opened the app and began my recitation:
O Jesus, meek and humble of heart, Hear me.
From the desire of being esteemed, Deliver me, O Jesus.
From the desire of being loved, Deliver me, O Jesus.
From the desire of being extolled, Deliver me, O Jesus.
From the desire of being honored, Deliver me, O Jesus.
From the desire of being praised, Deliver me, O Jesus.
From the desire of being preferred to others, Deliver me, O Jesus.
From the desire of being consulted, Deliver me, O Jesus.
From the desire of being approved, Deliver me, O Jesus.
From the fear of being humiliated, Deliver me, O Jesus.
From the fear of being despised, Deliver me, O Jesus.
From the fear of suffering rebukes, Deliver me, O Jesus.
From the fear of being calumniated, Deliver me, O Jesus.
From the fear of being forgotten, Deliver me, O Jesus.
From the fear of being ridiculed, Deliver me, O Jesus.
From the fear of being wronged, Deliver me, O Jesus.
From the fear of being suspected, Deliver me, O Jesus.
That others may be loved more than I, Jesus, grant me the grace to desire it.
That others may be esteemed more than I, Jesus, grant me the grace to desire it.
That, in the opinion of the world, others may increase and I may decrease, Jesus, grant me the grace to desire it.
That others may be chosen and I set aside, Jesus, grant me the grace to desire it.
That others may be praised and I go unnoticed, Jesus, grant me the grace to desire it.
That others may be preferred to me in everything, Jesus, grant me the grace to desire it.
That others may become holier than I, provided that I may become as holy as I should, Jesus, grant me the grace to desire it.
As I continued my recitation over and over again, I needed several Kleenex. I realized as I read through the Litany that I had experienced every one of these fears in my lifetime, not to mention that the petitions related to placing others before myself jumped out as a stark reminder that I had some work to do in this regard. I recalled being passed over, repeatedly, during grade school recess when teams for dodge ball or baseball or a game called "Red Rover, Red Rover" were chosen. I had little athletic ability and zero athletic prowess. I was routinely among the last chosen, a contributing factor to a life lived on the perfectionistic side of the equation, a life sprinkled with fear and resentment. I wanted to be first.
In the moment, I began to experience an awareness of Jesus, as though he were sitting next to me, assuring me that He had my back despite the failures, the omissions and the comissions, the resentment and the self-centeredness. He wanted me to pick myself up and try again. He wasn't about to let me fall. Of this, I was confident.
I left the church some time later. Work beckoned, though I could have stayed hours longer. Hope had been restored for me in that encounter. I am grateful to my confessor for the insight he had and the conviction with which he spoke in giving me the penance instruction.
In preparing this blog edition, I did a bit of research on his Eminence, Merry +Cardinal de Val (photo right), the church figure to whom the composing of the Litany of Humility is attributed. A Spanish cleric, he was the Secretary of State to Pope Saint Pius X from 1903 - 1914, and served as Secretary of the Papal Conclave that elected Pope Pius X in 1903. C.S. Lewis attributed the Litany of Humility to Cardinal de Val in a 1948 letter to another cleric. The Litany appears to predate Cardinal de Val, however, and its author is unknown. What I did find were the following paragraphs at the bottom of the Litany as published by EWTN, previously not seen on the prayer card version in my possession.
Charity
Charity is patient, is kind; charity does not envy, is not pretentious, is not puffed up, is not ambitious, is not self-seeking, is not provoked; thinks no evil, does not rejoice over wickedness, but rejoices with the truth, bears with all things, believes all things, hopes all things, endures all things. (1 Cor. 13:4-7).
To have Charity is to love God above all things for Himself and be ready to renounce all created things rather than offend Him by serious sin. ( Matt. 22:36-40)
Mary, Our Lady of Grace, pray for us!
Thumnail image, The Litany of Humility, courtesy of The Catholic Company, accessed online at Praying Through Lent: The Litany of Humility (pinterest.com)
