The great (and tragic) comedy of going to confession

My husband and I both went to confession one afternoon. I got out first while he was still in line, and he asked me who was in there—the Nigerian nit-picker, the almost-deaf crank or maybe Father Distracto? I reared back in mock horror, rolled my eyes heavenward and whispered, “Um, it’s Jesus.”

Read the rest of my latest for America Magazine.

photo credit: Freaktography Confessional Booth in Rural Ontario Abandoned Church via photopin (license)

2 thoughts on “The great (and tragic) comedy of going to confession”

  1. After I go to confession I pray my penance. Then I thank Jesus for forgiving my sins. The priest acts in the place of Jesus when he gives absolution.

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