Confessing the Sins Done on Our Behalf

Three girls praying

Phew! We made it to final week of Lent! (Although, I’m pretty sure it won’t feel like Easter till quarantine is over . . . ) 

This week, we’ll be finishing the confession series by talking about a new category of things to confess:  the sins done on our behalf.

Sins Committed by the Church

A few years ago, I visited Washington, D.C. on a university-sponsored professional development trip. A staff member from a small, D.C. Episcopal church was kind enough to show me around. 

He gave me a tour of the sanctuary and pointed upstairs, to the balcony. I’d never seen one like that in a church before. “Many churches in the South have one,” he said. “They were built for the slaves.”

church balcony
Photo by Fabrizio Verrecchia on Unsplash

That’s obviously a shockingly concrete illustration of the sins committed on that church’s behalf. Slaveowners almost certainly contributed heavily to build and maintain its endowment, and thus made it viable today. Slave labor certainly generated a bulk of that money.

Not to mention, the balcony serves as a visible reminder of Christians’ theological endorsement of segregation, something that furthered the oppression of millions of African-Americans over centuries.

Maybe your church also has visible reminders of the sins done on your behalf. Or perhaps it’s more subtle. 

For churches that are against alcohol consumption or violence, it might be an investment portfolio that includes those manufacturers. Or maybe your denomination used to exclude certain classes of people from ordination or marriage, in ways that your congregation regrets.

Investment portfolio
Photo by Fabrizio Verrecchia on Unsplash

Some churches and religious organizations are already exploring this theme, primarily around race and slavery. Virginia Theological Seminary, which was built by slaves, began reparations funds for African-American clergy and descendants of slaves that worked on campus. Princeton Theological Seminary, which received donations from Southern plantation owners, opened a similar fund for an endowed chair. 

Of course, slavery and racism aren’t the only examples. Sometimes, the sins done on our behalf are less specific to one congregation and more general to our faith as a whole. 

Person holding globe
Photo by Ben White on Unsplash

On a research project for my university’s religion department, I encountered old course catalogs from the early 1900s. The Religion department had offered classes for aspiring missionaries preparing to travel to Africa and Asia. The language in the course descriptions describing unchurched populations and their native religions, made my stomach churn.

Of course, my religion department is far from the only institution that cultivated a narrative of whites’ religious superiority. As a Christian, I am participating in an institution that historically treated entire races of people as savages in need of conversion.

There are any number of financial, political, and theological actions that the Church has profited from, at the expense of others. They are painful and humbling examples of sins that the Church has committed on behalf of its faithful.

Sins Committed by our Country

American flag
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In a Christian context, it’s important to start with the sins done on our behalf by the Church. But we can experience the same disconnect through our political systems, too.

You probably pay taxes that fund something that you believe is unjust. If you’re a conservative Catholic, it’s Planned Parenthood. If you’re a Quaker, it’s the war in Afghanistan. 

Regardless of what you believe or your political leanings, most Christians can probably agree that the government is committing sins on their behalf, with their tax dollars. Simply by living as part of a diverse and civilized society, we end up funding things that don’t line up with our values as followers of Christ.

Dollars
Photo by Sharon McCutcheon on Unsplash

Again, whatever your persuasions, you probably feel that political leaders are committing sins, using your welfare as a justification for doing so. That’s something worth confessing.

Sins Committed by our Society

Anyone else watching The Good Place right now? (SPOILERS AHEAD–scroll below the tomato picture to avoid). In this fictional universe, each human being is judged by a point system. Every action contributes a positive or negative value that eventually determines admittance to The Good Place or The Bad Place. 

The problem is, no one has gotten into The Good Place since the 1500s. At the end of the third season, the demon Michael finally figures out why.

The world has grown so complex that a single action, no matter how well-intentioned, will inevitably have negative consequences. “These days,” Michael explains, “just buying a tomato at a grocery store means that you are unwittingly supporting toxic pesticides, exploiting labor, and contributing to global warming!”

Tomatoes representing the sins done on our behalf
Photo by Sharon McCutcheon on Unsplash

The show rightly points out that, simply by living in today’s multifacted world, we commit sins. My congregation, for example, has professed a religious commitment to the environment. Yet it’s almost impossible for us to exist without a carbon footprint. We can’t completely eliminate our emissions, waste, or pollution.

And, in doing so, we hurt the earth. We hurt climate refugees. We hurt those too poor to protect themselves from the health consequences. 

For our congregation, then, that’s something to confess. And that just covers ecological sins! There are so many other systems that are hard, if not impossible, to avoid. 

So if we’re serious about repenting of the “sins done on our behalf,” then we need to include the ones we commit just by being a part of society.

How do we confess the sins done on our behalf?

Church pulpit
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First of all, as with all kinds of confession, it’s crucial to limit shaming and guilt. People in your congregation might have no idea that certain injustices ever happened at all. Or they might not understand how they contributed to it or profit from it. Gentle, compassionate education will enable humble repentance.

Also, not everyone is going to have the same idea of what constitutes “sins done on our behalf,” especially in the realm of politics. Hammering out exact lists could just alienate and inadvertently create more judgment. 

Instead, it’s helpful begin with an example or two that is not too charged. Find a local issue everyone can agree on, like a landfill being put in a poor neighborhood. From there, it might be easier to move on to stickier topics.

Trash on beach
Photo by K. Mitch Hodge on Unsplash

So, too, it’s important to focus on disavowing the act, without judging the people who do the acts. Everyone is a beloved child of God, even when their actions are antithetical to our belief in justice and mercy. That’s a fine line to walk.

And, finally, it’s important to strike a balance between mourning and action. All sins call for mourning, as we return to communion with God, ourselves, and our neighbors.  Some sins also call for changed behavior, like creating investment portfolios that align more clearly with your values.  

But other kinds of sins done on our behalf might not be able to be helped at all—places where our tax money goes, for example. These are the ones where mourning must be the predominant response. 


Priest holding palm branches
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I hope you’ve found this confession series useful and thought-provoking as we’ve journeyed throughout this rather unconventional Lent. Is there anything about dealing with COVID-19 that has shaped your understanding of confession?  

What was helpful? What wasn’t? Let me know in the comments!

And give me a shout out on social media if there’s anything in particular you’d like to hear about after Easter. COVID-19-related resources? Something non-pandemic-related? Let me know!

Reclaiming Confession in Lent

Cross against sunrise

What’s your reaction when you think about confession? Do you feel revulsion? Fear? Anxiety?

If so, you’re not alone. Last week, we talked about the Christian theology that made confession such a prominent part of Christian worship in the first place. But over the millennia, confession has become synonymous with guilt and shame. For some, it evokes an image of an angry, vindictive God, demanding guilt and self-denial in exchange for salvation.

Over the last few decades though, especially in mainline spaces, there’s been a move away from guilt and shame-filled theology. Researchers and cultural influencers like Brené Brown have led a shift toward more forgiving, loving understandings of ourselves and others. Liturgy that points to a judgmental Lord is disappearing in favor of more loving, mercy-filled depictions of the Divine.

If you ask me, this move is a good thing. So why do we need to be reclaiming confession?

Confession as Reconciliation, not Shame

Sign that says "repent"
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I believe wholeheartedly that Christ came to take away our guilt and shame, not to increase it. Different theology disagrees on whether he did so through his life, death, or resurrection. But the result is the same. 

It makes sense, therefore, to move away from aspects of our traditional liturgy that heap shame onto “hopelessly sinful” believers.

Yet, as humans, we all have times when we don’t respond to God’s love, when we act out of fear, instead. (For the purposes of convenience, in this article, I’ll refer to those moments as “sin.” But feel free to substitute whatever term you prefer.)

Person with face buried in hands
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These occasions can slowly tear us down, wearing on our relationships with God and those around us. Sometimes, they wreak havoc.

This is where confession comes in. In the Catholic and Episcopal churches, confession is often known as the Sacrament of Reconciliation

Sure, we are confessing our sins. But that’s not the end goal. The end goal is to reconcile with God, with ourselves, and with those we have hurt. 

The “Sacrament of Reconciliation” emphasizes that we are not confessing in order to consign ourselves to the dark corner of shame. Rather, it’s about bringing our wounds into the light, where God can heal them. It’s actually about banishing shame, in order to enable reconciliation with God and others.

Light in the darkness
Photo by Jez Timms on Unsplash

Maybe your church or denomination doesn’t celebrate confession as an individual sacrament. Maybe it’s instead meant to be done in worship, or in small groups.

It doesn’t really matter how we do it. The important thing is that we, as the Church, provide a space for that all-important process of confession and reconciliation.

What happens when we don’t confess?

When we take confession out of our churches, it doesn’t automatically end the shame or guilt people feel about their sins. Instead, removing confession implies that sinfulness either:

  1. doesn’t happen
  2. doesn’t need healing, or 
  3. is something that should be kept secret and dealt with outside of church, through private prayer or secular therapists

I would argue strenuously that none of these assumptions is true. Obviously, we know that all of us sin, in ways big and small, on a regular basis. Nobody is perfect. As far as I know, no one is debating that.

So if we can all agree that sin happens, then we need to talk about healing. And healing isn’t something that we can just create by ourselves, much of the time. Especially when we are talking about larger patterns of destructive behavior—addiction, abusing others, etc.

Woman holding finger to mouth
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Confession opens the door to that healing by bringing our pain into the light and seeking the help of God, through trusted members in our community. When we don’t confess, we let wounds fester. And often, we are more likely to make the same mistake next time.

But it is also crucial that that healing happens in religious contexts, not only in secular therapy or private prayer. 

In my last article, I mentioned that an interviewee wanted church to be a place where he could confess his worst sins, where he could confess adultery or drunkenness, abuse or addiction. Yet topics of that magnitude rarely see the light of day in average, mainline congregations. 

Shunning these prevalent issues implies that there is no room for deep brokenness in church. There may not be explicit shaming or guilt, but the very lack of discussion teaches that such matters should be kept secret or dealt with outside of church, if at all.

To Millennials in particular, this silence can reinforce the notion that church isn’t relevant. If you’re not speaking to the most important issues in their lives, they’re not going to come.

Millennial on floor with book
Photo by Kelly Sikkema on Unsplash

So . . . how can we be reclaiming confession?

Doesn’t this leave us between a rock and a hard place, then? If confessions traditionally have heaped guilt upon “unworthy sinners,” and no confession creates secrecy and shame by implication, how do we proceed?

This is part of the work of today’s Reformation:  figuring out how to be reclaiming confession in a healthy, shame-free way. We need to create patterns of confession that meet the spiritual needs of those around us.

To that end, here are a few key ideas for reclaiming confession in your community:

Reclaiming confession by healing old wounds

Woman reclaiming confession against sunset
Photo by William Farlow on Unsplash

You personally may or may not have been wounded by previous expressions of confession. But very likely, some people in your congregation have been. 

I heard several stories from interviewees who had been seriously hurt by confession in their childhood churches. One had even been in a denomination and family that had tied physical abuse to the practice. 

While this extreme is probably rare, it’s important to detangle guilt, shame, and angry God theology from the practice of confessing the ways we wound and have been wounded. This can be done in a sermon, adult education class, or simply a little talk during announcements.

Man reclaiming confession on the labrynth
Photo by Ashley Batz on Unsplash

You know what best serves your congregation. But it’s important to assume that there will be some people, at least, who have a rocky history with the subject and need pastoral care before fully embracing a new form of confession.

Reclaiming confession by focusing on doing, not being

When confession focuses on our worthiness, it misses the mark by fixating on who we are, not on our actions or words. 

As believers in Jesus Christ, our worthiness is not on the table for negotiation. Death has lost its sting. Nothing can separate us from the love of God.  

Instead, confession must focus on our actions. What gets in the way of enacting love for ourselves, God, and our neighbors? Then, confession can help us trust that transparency is a powerful path to wholeness. 

To this end, craft or choose confession liturgy, either corporate or individual, that focuses on action, not being. In the absolution, emphasize reassurances of forgiveness and love.

Reclaiming confession with practical paths to healing

Roman Catholics traditionally assigned penance, time in prayer, to strengthen souls so that they wouldn’t commit the same sin twice.

People supporting each other with hands
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Evangelicals often use small groups (Sandals Church in Southern California is a great example). If you confess to a megachurch pastor that you’re yelling at your child a lot, they probably have a support group for busy parents to read Scripture, pray, and give each other advice. 

If your marriage on the rocks, they may point you to a group for married couples, along with the phone numbers of trusted therapists in the area. And so on for a variety of other issues.

Maybe it makes sense to assign individuals a prayer practice. Maybe you want to give people lists of resources in your church and town. Perhaps, if you realize many people are struggling with the same issue, you want to preach about it.

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But providing concrete resources shows your congregation that confession isn’t just going through liturgical motions. It’s a very serious path that combines spirituality and practicality to create real growth in relationships with God and the people around us.

In other words, make it clear that your version of confession is true reconciliation.