By: Rev Dr Oliver Subotic
On the Need for Spiritual Health. Repentance as the Need for Purification and a Change of Life. Preparation for Confession. Proper and Improper Confession.*
Among the Serbian people there exists a well-known proverb that we often hear, especially among the elderly. It says: Health comes first!
This proverb is entirely correct if we clarify and precisely determine which type of health is being referred to. Namely, most people who cite this saying think exclusively of bodily health, which, we will all agree, is undoubtedly very important. This form of health enables us to live a quality life and to carry out our daily activities without hindrance; as such, it represents a gift from God that should be carefully preserved and nurtured. Yet external, bodily health, however significant and necessary it may be, has its own “expiration date” – sooner or later it will leave us. Ultimately, earthly life itself has physical limitations that will one day bring an end to bodily health even for the healthiest person in the world. There is, however, a form of health that has no temporal limitations and that is incomparably more important. This is spiritual health, that is, the health of our soul. If we struggle constantly to achieve bodily health until the grave, then we should struggle even more intensely for spiritual health (which must be distinguished from psychological well-being), since it endures beyond the grave, for the soul is immortal. This means that the attainment of spiritual health is our primary task, and it is precisely in relation to this form of health that the proverb is fulfilled in its fullest sense: Health comes first!
What constitutes the health and illness of the soul? Simply put, a healthy soul is adorned with virtues and all its faculties operate properly, whereas a sick soul is disfigured by sin and vices, and its faculties are distorted and function improperly. Therefore, the logic of attaining spiritual health is quite simple: it consists in adhering to the natural, virtuous way of life and turning away from the unnatural, sinful, and vicious one. The aim of such a life is not merely that we become moral people, but that we become people of God (let us recall here the well-known words of our holy Patriarch Pavle: Let us be people!). If, however, we choose the opposite path – that is, if we violate God’s commandments and live in sin – then we will only have the name that we live, while we are dead (Rev. 3:1). For although the soul is immortal (by the grace of God), there is also a certain kind of death of the soul, namely its darkening by sin, which deprives it of true communion with God if it remains in such a state eternally.
At this point it is instructive to recall a thought of the great saint of the Church, St. Gregory Palamas, who in a homily for the feast of the Entry of the Most Holy Theotokos into the Temple, speaking about the mystery of the hypostatic union of the divine and human nature in Christ the God-man, says that “for God, in truth, only one thing is impossible – that He should unite Himself with what is impure before it has been purified.” In another homily for the same feast, the saint states that “it is not possible to become truly close to God unless we are purified […]”. These are words that are both clear and admonitory, reminding us how essential it is to cleanse ourselves of the impurity of sin and to acquire spiritual health as soon as possible. Yet this cannot be achieved without God’s help and without our own effort.
In all of the above, the key issue is our encounter with God in eternity – those whose souls are healthy will experience that encounter as eternal light, while those whose souls are sick will experience it as eternal darkness. Let us use here a natural analogy to explain how an encounter with God, who is Light, may be experienced by someone as darkness. In our created world the primary symbol of light is the sun, which illuminates and warms all people without distinction. Nevertheless, we do not all experience its rays in the same way: for healthy eyes they produce a pleasant sensation, while for diseased eyes they cause discomfort and pain.
Spiritual health, however, is of great importance not only for eternity but also for this present world, into which we have been born and which we inhabit for a time. Indeed, spiritual health is the foundation for bodily health and for the inner peace, joy, and tranquility that so many people seek in this life. Put differently, spiritual illness is directly reflected both in the emergence of bodily diseases and in inner unrest and anxiety. How many cases are there in which people have fallen physically ill and suffered from so-called psychosomatic diseases because their souls had previously become sick with pride, selfishness, resentment, envy, or vainglory? How many examples are there of the direct impact of spiritual illness upon the body through sins such as drunkenness, drug abuse, and sexual immorality? How many instances are there in which “the fathers have eaten sour grapes, and the children’s teeth are set on edge” (Ezek. 18:2), so that because of the sins of their ancestors various bodily ailments appear in their descendants even to the third and fourth generation? Such cases are as frequent as they are admonitory, and they clearly testify both to the superiority of spiritual health over bodily health and to the connection between them.
Cleanliness is half of health – this is another proverb worth mentioning. We hear it somewhat less frequently, mostly in medical circles. It is also true, and not only when the body is concerned but when the soul is concerned as well. We have already stated that spiritual impurity is sin, which functions as a kind of parasite that pollutes and poisons our inner being. If this parasite is not removed from the soul, over time it produces a spiritual disease that becomes more difficult to heal the longer it lasts. Particularly difficult to heal is the condition in which a person becomes accustomed to sin to such a degree that it becomes his second nature – in that case we are no longer speaking merely of a committed sin, but of a passion that has taken root in a person and attached itself to his soul. In medical terminology, if a person commits a particular sin only occasionally, it is an acute condition; if he commits a certain sin regularly over a long period of time, it is a chronic condition of the soul’s illness; and if a person becomes enslaved to sin to the extent that it has become his second nature, then we are dealing with the terminal stage of a spiritual disease.
Just as the need for cleanliness is obvious when it comes to the body, it should be all the more evident when it comes to the soul. If, in the case of the body, the signal for cleansing is given by contact with dirt, the appearance of the skin, or an unpleasant odour, in the case of the soul the signal is given by the conscience, which is an unfailing teacher that should always be heeded. Every human being possesses a conscience, whether believer or unbeliever – it is the first and fundamental educator of the soul. If the voice of conscience is not sufficiently audible, this is a symptom of a serious spiritual illness; and if the conscience has, as it were, been seared (cf. 1 Tim. 4:2) and no longer signals the need for the purification of the soul from sin, then this is a grave spiritual condition from which only the Lord can rescue a person through extraordinary intervention. And such “surgical” interventions from above can indeed be painful…
If, as the proverb says, “cleanliness is half of health,” where then is the other half? When it comes to the body the answer is clear, but where, figuratively speaking, is the “other half” of health when the soul is concerned? It lies in the action of the divine energy of God, which comes to dwell in a person steadily when he has made sufficient effort to cleanse himself from sin and to turn towards the path of keeping God’s commandments. In fact, that first half – our effort to cleanse the soul – is only the prerequisite for receiving the second, principal “half,” through which we become whole human beings in the true sense of the word. If the “first half” is our effort to purify ourselves from the filth of sin, the “second half” is the divine grace that is given as a reward for our effort and that makes us truly healthy, sanctified, and enlightened human beings, exactly as we are meant to be. The attainment of such a grace-filled state is the principal goal of human life – for man was created precisely in order to acquire the grace of God steadfastly and, as such, to enter eternity. Whoever attains this is successful, even if in this world he were homeless and achieved nothing else; whoever does not attain it is unsuccessful and, spiritually speaking, utterly impoverished, even if he were to gain all the goods and honours that this world can offer.
The goal of acquiring the grace of God is achieved through a kind of “spiritual treatment” that takes place within the greatest healing institution in the world – the Church – in which every spiritual illness, weakness, and wound can be healed. In the “treatment” offered by this healing institution, the first step is repentance and confession, which must be accompanied by the awareness that our soul is, to a greater or lesser extent, diseased by sin, and that the wounds of sin can be healed only within the ascetical and liturgical embrace of the Church.
Repentance as the Need for Purification and a Change of Life
Our Lord Jesus Christ began His earthly mission with the words: Repent, for the Kingdom of Heaven is at hand!, and these very same words had previously been proclaimed by His Forerunner and Baptist John (cf. Matt. 3:2; 4:17). This means that repentance is of particular importance for all of us, without exception, and that we must understand it properly.
Unfortunately, most Christians today understand the word “repentance” in a superficial way, and a considerable number even believe that they have no need of repentance at all. Repentance is not merely a matter of feeling sorry for having committed a sin – that is only the beginning of the penitential process, and although it is undoubtedly important and necessary, it is nowhere near sufficient. True repentance is precisely what the original word signifies – a change of mind – meaning the acquisition of an entirely new way of thinking and acting. In other words, repentance is a spiritual turning point. It is never too late for this fundamental transformation of life so long as we are alive, though it is certainly advisable to begin it as early as possible, for none of us knows when we shall pass into eternity. I shall judge you in whatever state I find you – these are sobering words that should always be kept in mind.
Let us illustrate this turning point with a simple example, one well suited to our own time, in which certain vices have multiplied on a massive scale. When a man dominated by the passion of gambling at some point becomes aware that frequenting betting shops is ruining his life, consuming a considerable portion of his energy, making him a tense and irritable addict, endangering his family relationships, and so forth, he will, if he has even a little sense, feel sorrow over such a state. Yet in order to free himself from the vice that is poisoning him and destroying his life, a firm decision is also needed – to break with his former behaviour at any cost. In practice, this means keeping a wide distance from places of vice and severing every association with the company with whom he used to go to betting shops (in the words of the Lord: If your right hand causes you to sin, cut it off and cast it from you… (Matt. 5:30)), as well as breaking every mental bond with the sin of gambling (again, in the Lord’s words: If your eye causes you to sin, pluck it out and cast it from you… (Matt. 5:29)). At the same time, active repentance also requires that one begin doing something wholly contrary to one’s former sinful life: in this particular case, that one henceforth live exclusively by earning through the labour of one’s own hands and by applying one’s acquired knowledge in blessed occupations (gambling and betting are certainly not among them). This would be the proper and integral approach: after becoming aware of the sin committed, one must cut off its further practice and establish entirely new, virtuous habits. At the beginning, it is absolutely necessary for a person simply to flee from sin, until, through prayer, fasting, contemplation of God, and the like, he encounters Christ more deeply and comes to love Him with all his heart. When that happens, he will no longer need to flee from sin – sin will flee from him. For we are in sin precisely because we are not sufficiently Christ’s and do not belong to Him with our whole being, but are instead spiritually divided and intellectually fragmented persons. As such, what we need is not deep psychoanalysis, but deep psychosynthesis.
Repentance, then, is the first step in the healing of the soul, a step which, in essence, should direct us away from sin and towards Christ. A particular difficulty on this path arises when a sin has passed into habit and thus become a passion – in that case it is repeated again and again, especially if repentance is not sufficiently deep. The ideal state is that sin be cut off at the root and never repeated again, yet the weakness of human nature is such that repetitions do occur. In this sense, our Christian life consists in “walking” along a spiritual path on which we rise, fall, rise again, cleanse ourselves, and continue on, while repentance ought to remain our constant companion for as long as we live. What matters is that the falls along this journey become weaker, less frequent, and less painful; that we do not keep stumbling over the same stone (only fools do that, as the ancient proverb says); and that repentance become ever deeper and more intense. And we must never forget that throughout this journey, the One who is the Way, the Truth, and the Life is always beside us, ardently desiring in the end to bring us into the promised joy (cf. John 14:6; Matt. 25:21). All that He asks of us is the effort to remain faithful to Him, and, if we go astray, to repent and amend our lives.
Just as repentance is often understood superficially, so too sin is generally understood in a moralistic sense. In its essence, however, sin is not a moral transgression, but a misdirection of our will – that is, the orientation of our being towards a course that leads us astray and distances us from God, who is the goal and meaning of our life. Sin occurs whenever we do something that is not in accordance with the will of God. In its original meaning, the word “sin” would be translated precisely as missing the target – in other words, the moment we miss what is according to God’s will, we find ourselves in a sinful state that ought to be corrected as soon as possible.
Sin is, in fact, an energy that has not been rightly directed and that requires redirection. For example, a person who suffers from hatred towards other people should redirect that energy into hatred of the evil he perceives within himself; a person who longs for passing human glory should redirect that energy into striving for imperishable, eternal glory, the glory of the Kingdom of God; a person who constantly thinks about what others will say about him and how to attract their attention should redirect that energy into the effort to attract God’s attention and to please Him. The energy of sin, therefore, must be transformed into the energy of virtue. This will often not be an easy task, and in order to succeed in it, it is essential that we have spiritual guidance from those who are experienced in the spiritual battlefield.
When we were children, we were guided by our parents, who counselled us to do what is good and to avoid what is bad; when we grew up, the Church, as a caring spiritual mother, began to counsel and direct us in how we should live. If we heed her, we shall preserve the purity of our soul; and if we fall into sin, she will receive us when we come in repentance to be cleansed in her embrace. If a bodily mother always awaits her child with open arms, especially when that child weeps in her embrace over something wrong that has been done, no matter how many times it happens, how much more love and patience will our spiritual Mother, the Church, have towards us? Here we arrive at the theme that naturally follows the process of repentance, namely confession before a priest – the spiritual physician – who will listen to us, cleanse the spiritual wound, and prescribe for us an appropriate “therapy” which, in time, if we apply it, will bring health to our soul.
Preparation for Confession
There is no man who lives and does not sin, as one Church prayer says. This, however, must be understood rightly: as a call to cleanse ourselves from sin as thoroughly as possible, to repeat sins as rarely as possible in the future, and never to mortal sins once we have confessed them. When we acquire such an awareness of the need for purification, and then bring forth active repentance, it is time to prepare for confession and to seek out an experienced priest. Let us begin, therefore, with preparation for confession.
Preparation is always necessary for confession, since confession is (let us emphasize this once again) a therapeutic act intended to cleanse and heal the wounds of our soul, so that they may not fester, putrefy, and – God forbid – be carried into eternity in such a state, when they will no longer be able to be healed. In this sense, as we prepare for confession, we should bear in mind that the priest is not a police officer who will interrogate us in order to establish some kind of guilt, nor a judge who pronounces punishment for a proven offense, but a physician who carefully listens to the nature of the sinful wound upon the soul, so that, accordingly, he may cleanse the wound, apply balm to it, bandage it, and then offer concrete spiritual therapy by which we ourselves may continue to treat that wound. Here the analogy with medicine is almost complete, with the priest being only a servant of the True Physician of soul and body – the Lord Jesus Christ. It is therefore very important to find a priest who is spiritually experienced, so that he may adequately treat the wounds of our soul.
Every priest should be shown due respect, because every priest (provided that he is canonical and holds to the true faith) has the grace to perform sacred rites. Nevertheless, not every priest is also a spiritual father, for that is a special gift and in part also requires experience; thus, it is advisable to choose one’s confessor with care. On the other hand, this does not mean that one should be excessively selective about where one will make one’s confession, since in the end one may easily remain unconfessed. Often it will be sufficient simply to turn to our parish priest, to whom the Church has entrusted the care of a particular parish. If he is only a “general practitioner,” that will still be enough for him to heal most of the wounds of our soul, while for those that are grave and complex he will give us a “referral,” that is, he will send us to a “specialist doctor” who is more spiritually experienced.
All of us have at least once in life needed to go for an ordinary medical examination, and we know that it is sometimes desirable, and at other times necessary, to come prepared with laboratory tests and everything else that might help the physician determine the diagnosis as precisely as possible and prescribe the proper therapy. It is also understood that during such an examination we ourselves describe our medical condition, our symptoms, and everything we believe the physician should know – everything that makes his work easier and enables him to determine the best possible diagnosis. If the physician has something additional to ask, he will ask it, and we will answer sincerely – for our own benefit.
Now let us imagine an entirely different scenario: that a patient comes to the doctor completely unprepared, brings none of the necessary documentation, and, when asked by the doctor about his condition, speaks only in vague terms – perhaps something hurts, though he himself is not sure whether it hurts or where it hurts – and yet, on the other hand, knows precisely who in his family, extended family, and neighborhood has which ailment, while he himself (unlike them) is, in principle, healthy and suffers only from everyday minor complaints. When asked why he came for the examination and took an appointment that others are waiting for, the patient replies that he came merely in order to fulfill a certain formal requirement of having an annual checkup (in other words, he came just for the sake of formality). However bizarre such a situation may seem, something similar occurs every day in Church life when it comes to confession.
If we were to conduct a survey among priests and ask them what is most difficult in their vocation, we would almost certainly find that in most cases the answer would be confession. But not because of sinners who truly repent, that is, those who come prepared for confession and seek healing for their soul; rather, because of self-proclaimed “righteous people,” who come to confession either unprepared, or in order to boast of their supposed spiritual health, or to speak about the spiritual illnesses of their neighbors (or all of these things combined). Yet when a person comes prepared to confess sincerely, the priest is completely unburdened, and all that remains for him is to listen attentively, with inward prayer, to the one standing before him, offer concrete spiritual counsel, and read the prayer of absolution for the specific sins that have been confessed.
The most difficult situation for a priest is when he must expend the greater part of his energy trying to persuade a believer that he really ought to confess something concrete, given that he has already come to confession, and that he ought not to speak about the sins of others. After only one such ordeal with a conceited, so-called “righteous man” who feels no need for repentance yet has nevertheless come to confession, a priest usually loses as much strength as he would need to confess ten sincere penitents, and not infrequently he feels the need to change the shirt he wears under his cassock, because it is often soaked with sweat from “wrestling” with the proud, self-appointed “righteous man” (which is why in such situations a priest also needs a glass of water to recover a little). Therefore, if one comes to confession, one should not permit oneself the luxury of requiring the priest to persuade one to confess – such a situation is in itself bizarre.
If we truly do not know what we ought to confess, yet still feel the need to go to confession, then at the outset we should ask ourselves who the people are that know us best, and what they believe ought to be corrected in us. The family environment in particular is a good starting point for self-criticism, and so, to begin with, we may ask ourselves some initial questions while preparing for confession: Do I honour my parents? Do I set a good example for my children? Do I fulfill my marital duties conscientiously? Do I remain faithful to my spouse? Such matters are understood by almost everyone, and people generally recognize them in themselves.
There is yet another simple criterion that can help us at the very beginning to prepare ourselves, even before we enter into the deeper questions of confession. It concerns whether we are merciful, or whether we are ruled by stinginess, contempt for the poor, insensitivity, hardness of heart, and indifference towards the suffering of others. A Christian is a person who, in addition to confessing his faith, tests himself by the work of mercy. Moreover, the Lord Jesus Christ warns us quite clearly that mercy will be the fundamental criterion when we are judged at the Last Judgment, when it will be asked whether we fed the hungry, gave drink to the thirsty, and visited the sick and the imprisoned (cf. Matt. 25:31–46). These are only some of the questions we may ask ourselves at the very beginning, if we truly do not know where to start.
It is always advisable before confession to consult some handbook for confession as well, after which it will become much clearer to a person what ought to be confessed and what ought not to be confessed, and he may then reflect accordingly. And when a person is aware of what he needs to confess, he should also be practical, and agree with his parish priest or spiritual father on a time when he may come for confession. This is because a thorough confession requires a substantial amount of time, and it cannot be carried out on the assumption that the priest is available “at the push of a button.” The priest must be given enough time to organize himself properly, just as one would with a chosen physician, if we are already using simple and understandable analogies from daily life. Moreover, the appointed time for confession should be used in the best possible way. Therefore, when we go to confession, we do so solely for confession and for nothing else. If we feel the need to meet with the priest and speak with him about various matters, including spiritual conversation, we shall set aside another day and a different context for that apart from confession. This is precisely the point at which something should be said about proper and improper confession with regards to the confession of specific sins.
Proper and Improper Confession
At the outset of this consideration of proper and improper confession, let us briefly address the fairly common practice of confessing during the Divine Liturgy, something especially noticeable in our churches during the fasting periods, when many people come who have not attended services during the rest of the year. This phenomenon is an extreme concession and, essentially speaking, an irregularity, even a contradiction of the sacramental order of the Church. This kind of confession should be avoided at all costs and resorted to only in cases of utmost necessity, with the awareness that it is a great act of condescention of the Church towards those who are not sufficiently instructed in the meaning and process of confession, and who may be coming to it for the first time. Particularly troubling here is the phenomenon of Christians who, for years, regularly come to the Divine Liturgy and from time to time make their confession during the service itself (which means that under ordinary circumstances they are using an approach proper only to an emergency), something that is both a mistake and a sin, and that causes enormous harm to Church life. Here matters must be stated quite openly: if a liturgical Christian persists in the practice of confessing during the Divine Liturgy, then this is not only a form of spiritual schizophrenia, but also the sin of irreverence toward holy things and a deliberate disruption of the holiest service in the world. Furthermore, the priest who hears confessions during the service is also drawn into this schizophrenic state, because by the nature of things he ought at that time to be concelebrating with his brethren. Besides, let us also ask something entirely practical: what can a person possibly confess in the two or three minutes that these “liturgical confessions” last on average (and they cannot last any longer, since during the fasts dozens of people are usually waiting before the confessional stand)? Therefore, even if it exists in practice for certain reasons, confession during the Divine Liturgy is a kind of extraordinary circumstance that should be reduced to a minimum, by liturgically enlightening the faithful, and eventually abolished altogether.
A second aspect of the improper approach to confession is a serious problem frequently present in our time, namely the superficial confession of sins. A considerable number of people who confess in this way begin their conversation with the priest with words of self-justification that sound approximately like this: “I haven’t killed anyone, I haven’t stolen anything, I haven’t committed adultery…,” after which there usually follows something like: “I have nothing particular to confess; I only have everyday sins.” Let us ask ourselves: are things really as they are presented in these familiar “formulas”?
To begin with, let us confirm that in confession one should certainly first mention mortal and obvious sins – if such sins exist – with the knowledge that there is no sin God will not forgive if a person has repented, confessed, and come to hate that sin. How many former murderers, robbers, fornicators, and libertines, after deep repentance, have undergone a thorough transformation and become people of holy life! Indeed, the first man to enter Paradise was the repentant thief (cf. Luke 23:42–43). If, however, a person has no such grave sins upon his soul, then there is no need to underline the fact that he does not have them – in confession one states what one does have, not what one does not have to confess. Yet when it comes to the well-known formula, “I haven’t killed, I haven’t stolen, I haven’t committed adultery,” the vast majority of those who utter it do not at all reflect deeply on what they are saying, because closer examination often reveals a very different reality.
Let us begin with the sin of murder, which is one of the gravest sins – so grave that an average priest, over the course of his life, has heard it confessed only a few times (not counting, of course, prison chaplains, who hear it regularly). Is not deliberate and intentional abortion also murder? How many millions of unborn babies in Serbia have been killed from the end of the Second World War until the present day, under the influence of the godless ideology that was violently imposed upon these lands? Moreover, the sin of killing an unborn child is not only the sin of the woman, but also of the husband who consents to it. How many husbands in Serbia today are even aware of that?
A similar conclusion may be reached with regard to theft, which, after murder, is often cited as one of those sins whose non-commission supposedly “absolves” a person from making a thorough confession. But is there any one of us who has never cheated on an exam at school or university? Is cheating not a theft of another’s knowledge and a dishonest means of obtaining grades? And what shall we say about the widespread cases of systemic corruption and controversial business “arrangements” in which contracts are secured by bribing officials? Is that not a dishonorable way of acquiring income? Or how should one comment on the especially destructive practice of the habitual embezzlement of the state (which in recent decades has assumed an endemic character in the Balkans), whether it be the “borrowing” of minor production materials from factories by workers or the “arranging” of major sales contracts by those in managerial structures? St. Bishop Nikolaj, in his famous homily Do Not Steal from the State, for It Was Dearly Paid For (which ought to be introduced into Serbian secondary schools as compulsory reading, and at the same time printed in a million copies and distributed throughout Serbia), eloquently explains that stealing from the state is a far graver sin than stealing from an individual. The reason is simple: when a man steals from the state, he sins not against one person, but against millions; and what is most grievous, among them he also sins against the blood of the martyrs with which the soil of the state has been soaked, and against the tears of mothers, widows, and orphans of those who perished in defence of the faith and the homeland (Serbia is in this case a particularly striking example of a state that was dearly paid for). Does anyone in a society in which the mentality has long prevailed that “state property belongs to no one,” and that everyone should “grab” from the state as much as he can, even reflect on such matters during confession?
The same applies to the sin of adultery, whose non-commission, alongside the previous two sins, is likewise usually presented as a kind of “absolution” before the priest, who is evidently not perceived as a physician, but as a criminal investigator. To be sure, a priest will from time to time hear the confession of actual adultery; yet far more often he will hear that it has not been committed (and this will be emphasized at the very beginning of the confession, so that it is clearly established). What is usually forgotten, however, is that adultery is not only a matter of an outward act, but also of what takes place in the heart – the Lord Jesus Christ clearly warns us that everyone who harbors in his heart the desire to enter into an intimate relationship with someone who does not belong to him according to the law of God is already guilty of adultery (cf. Matt. 5:28). Here the logic of this world is entirely different, for before an earthly court someone who has never in deed betrayed his spouse, but who daily and consciously fantasizes about other persons and entertains lustful thoughts towards them, would be declared innocent – yet before the Judgment of God such a spouse is unfaithful, because he commits adultery in his heart, which is the spiritual centre of the human being.
Equally problematic is the second of the aforementioned “formulas,” of the type: “I have nothing in particular to confess; I only have everyday sins.” What is forgotten here is that even these “everyday sins” can be dangerous if they accumulate to such a degree that at some point they become a person’s second nature. A man, for example, tells small lies every day, make up stories, speaks half-truths, and in the end becomes a liar and a deceiver, so that this becomes a trait of his very character – or rather, lack of character. Another quarrels every day, argues, raises his voice, and at some point becomes so difficult for those around him that it is very hard to live with him, and everyone avoids him by a wide margin because he constantly causes emotional pain to others. And so on and so forth, with each of those seemingly “small” sins that are somehow taken for granted. In this sense, it makes no difference whether a man carries in his bag a single stone weighing one hundred kilograms (that is, some grave sin upon his soul), or a thousand pebbles weighing one hundred grams each (that is, a thousand accumulated “small” sins that have piled up): on his back he will be carrying the same weight.
When a fish is pulled ashore, it makes no difference whether it was caught in a great net or drawn out on a small hook that caught its fin – once it has been caught, the method by which it was pulled out of the water loses its importance. Therefore, it is important that we approach confession in such a way that we confess not only the great “nets” in which we have been ensnared, but also the little “hooks” on which we are so often caught, though we frequently pay them no attention. This means that there are no “customary” sins to which we ought to grow accustomed – every sin is filth that must be washed from the soul, and none should be neglected as a danger, however insignificant it may seem to us.
Particularly problematic is another sentence that has likewise become common (alongside the previous two), namely: “I only need the prayer of absolution in order to receive Communion,” together with its many variations, which priests also regularly have occasion to hear. Let us begin with the absurd notion that it is possible to read the prayer of absolution without the confession of specific sins. But from what, precisely, is a person to be absolved if he is bound by nothing? In any case, even a brief initial examination of conscience will show that we always have at least something to confess, since we sin in word, deed, and thought, consciously and unconsciously. If we leave aside unconscious sins and focus only on conscious ones (those of which we are aware and for which we recognize our responsibility), let us ask ourselves how many times we have sinned with our tongue alone. Who among us has never lied or spoken a half-truth at some point in life? Who has never gossiped or judged another? Who has never uttered an obscene word or cursed? Who has never quarreled or raised his voice against someone? Who has never insulted another or wounded him by a word? Is there anyone who has never engaged in idle chatter? Is there anyone who has never mocked or said something amusing yet inappropriate? Is there anyone who has not reacted improperly in traffic? Here, “at first glance,” are so many obvious sins from which almost none of us is free. For that reason, the idea of reading the prayer of absolution without naming the sins from which one seeks absolution should be freely dismissed as a harmful absurdity.
The fundamental problem with a superficial and improper approach to confession is that it keeps a person in the false conviction that he has healed his soul, whereas in reality he has only placed a filter over a festering wound and created an even greater problem, because the wound will only continue to fester. It must therefore be emphasized that proper confession presupposes the sincere, concrete, and personal confession of sins. First of all, it must be sincere, accompanied by a feeling of repentance. Confessions reduced to the mere reading of various lists without any sense of sorrow for the sins committed are certainly not such. This does not mean that one should never write one’s sins down on paper – on the contrary, this may sometimes be helpful (especially if a person has not confessed for a long time, so that such a list serves as a kind of reminder) – but confession cannot be reduced to the mere recitation of what has been written.
Second, confession must be concrete, which means neither overly general nor excessively detailed. For example, when a person says in confession only that he quarrels, that is extremely general and does not mean very much. It remains unclear with whom he quarrels, whether he himself initiates the quarrel or merely reacts, how often he falls into quarrels, whether he reconciles afterwards, and so forth. But when a person, for instance, confesses that he has a quarrelsome disposition, that he often finds himself quarreling with family members, colleagues at work, and close friends, and briefly explains the typical situations, then that is already very concrete and very well confessed, and it gives the priest room to determine an appropriate therapy proportionate to the depth of the wound, after discerning whether there is also resentment, a desire for revenge, and the like. There is, however, another extreme as well: when a person begins to recount in detail every individual situation, to deliver the entire “script,” and to quote in full everything that was said. Listening to such accounts completely consumes the priest’s attention and energy, so that the trees (the multitude of words) soon obscure the forest (the totality of the sin), and the time allotted for confession is quickly exhausted, leaving much else unconfessed.
One must be especially careful to avoid both the extreme of vagueness on the one hand and the extreme of excessive detail on the other, particularly when speaking of sins of impurity. It is not enough to confess the sin of fornication in a general manner, because a great many things may be included under that term: from a lack of continence within a lawful marriage on certain days, or the sin of self-abuse, to incomparably graver transgressions, such as entering into extramarital sexual relationships or unnatural fornication (which is publicly promoted today). Not everything can be subsumed under the single term “fornication,” nor is the gravity of every form of fornication the same; one must therefore be concrete in naming it. People usually struggle with shame when it comes to the precise naming of this sin, and for that reason it is important that they bear in mind that every true priest (especially a spiritual father) deeply respects those who sincerely and directly confess their sins, because this bears witness to the sincerity and depth of their faith. Let us repeat once more: the priest never has a problem with repentant sinners, but with proud “righteous men.” On the other hand, entering into details during confession must likewise be avoided when sins of impurity are concerned, because this rekindles the imagination of the one confessing and introduces unnecessary descriptions of a sin that ought to be loathed, while for the priest hearing the confession such content is unnecessary – he is not there to listen to the particulars of impure acts, but to heal a person of the passion of impurity.
Finally, it is very important to stress that confession must be personal, which means that a person comes to confess his own sins, not those of others. This ought, one would think, to be self-evident, although in practice it is quite common for people first to “confess” the sins of their neighbours, thereby often committing during confession a grave sin – judgment of others – without even being aware of it. Here too the same rule applies as when entering a doctor’s office: we come to speak about our own medical condition and symptoms, and about the health of others only if the doctor asks us about it.
Lastly, in confessing one should adhere to the strategy of naming first the gravest and most serious sins that afflict one. It would indeed be inappropriate, for example, first to confess idle talk, and only afterwards the psychophysical abuse of another person. It could even be said that if some particularly serious and grave sin is present, then precisely because of the depth of the wound, a separate confession ought to be arranged for that sin alone, so that full attention may be devoted to addressing the problem in question.
In the next article, we shall turn our attention to the classification of sins, their interrelation and sub-variants, as well as the difference between outward, visible sins and inward sins, which are more difficult to discern, thereby completing the themes within this brief and practical guide to confession.
*This concise guide to confession was written on the basis of fifteen years of experience in spiritual work with Orthodox Christians of different ages, educational backgrounds, professions, and ethnic origins. The purpose of the guide is to present the subject of confession in as understandable a way as possible to a broader circle of believers, so that they may prepare themselves properly for the Holy Mystery and thereby make easier for the priest the responsible duty of hearing confessions. The text represents “first aid” on the subject of confession, which is why it has been written concisely, in accessible language, with many accompanying examples and with as little entry as possible into complex theological themes [A/N].
** The text was originally published in the newspaper Pravoslavlje (1 March 2026), as part of cooperation with the Missionary Department of the Archbishopric of Belgrade-Karlovci in the area of publication of missionary texts.
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