Many years ago, when I was studying in Rome, I heard the story of an Italian bishop who made a difficult decision to deny priestly ordination to a candidate. The reason was that during the more than eight years the young man spent in the seminary, he never received the sacrament of Confession. The bishop had a compelling reason for denying Holy Orders: a priest who lacked appreciation for experiencing God's mercy would not be able to offer it to his parishioners.
The bishop knew that this candidate for the priesthood, having never gone to confession, would have a very fragile and inconsistent vocation. Without the experience of being forgiven during his years of formation at the seminary, once ordained, he could easily become accustomed to a double life, which would also lead to eventual scandal for the faithful of his parish. A priest's commitment to confessing his own sins often strengthens his own vocation as a minister of the Lord.
We priests must have profound respect, love, and reverence for the sacrament of forgiveness. Sometimes the faithful say things like: "Father, I'm going to tell you a secret I've never told anyone in my life"; "I've kept a sin hidden for over fifty years, one I haven't dared to confess, and now I'm going to tell you"; "I can't bear what I did anymore, and I feel like it's burning my soul." The experience of knowing the innermost depths of another person's heart should make the priest, like Moses before the burning bush that was not consumed, remove his sandals: what he treads on is holy ground.
I must confess that, as a priest, I haven't always been fully available to hear confessions. I used to think they should be heard exclusively in the sacred space of the church, which is ideal. I remember once, many years ago, a distressed young man stopped me in the street wanting to go to confession. I made the mistake of telling him the confession times and that he had to adhere to them. Later, I repented of my error. Today, I am open to hearing the confession of any member of the faithful, whether it's in the street, at an airport, or in a store, and whenever they ask. Throughout one's priestly life, one matures and comes to appreciate the wonders of this sacrament.
As a penitent, I've had pleasant experiences and, on occasion, not so pleasant ones. The warmth with which the priest receives you in the confessional is fundamental. I will never forget some confessions that, quite literally, marked my life thanks to the exquisite kindness of the minister of God and his prudence in judging my sins. Above all, I have greatly appreciated the priest's ability to advise, to lift spirits, and to transmit hope. On other occasions—fewer, admittedly—rigidity, coldness, or some unnecessary questions made me feel a little uncomfortable.
Some penitents arrive at the confessional with a certain anxiety about confessing their sins. Some don't approach for fear of harsh judgment. Others say they are very nervous. Faced with all these possible emotions, it is extremely comforting to find a confessor who is serene, calm, and even greets people with a smile and good-humored words; a confessor who reflects profound inner peace and who will never raise his eyebrows or exclaim "My God!" at the sins he hears, but remains always unperturbed, as if reflecting the heart of that merciful Father who knows the clay from which we are made.
The most important thing about sitting down to hear confessions is to keep in mind that penitents who come to you expect an encounter with God's infinite mercy. They wait for the Lord, who does not treat us according to our sins nor repay us according to our wickedness (Psalm 103), to reveal himself to them and lift them from their misery. Personally, I like to sit down to hear confessions with Sacred Scripture in hand and try to illuminate the consciences of the faithful with the light of the divine Word, either to show, through a passage, the abundance of God's love in his encounter with the sinner, or to help the penitent overcome their sin.
Priests can do a great deal of harm to penitents when we scold them. We all go to the confessional vulnerable, and a hurtful word or an outburst from the confessor can cause a person to never return to the sacrament. But we can also cause serious harm when, in our desire to overprotect, we fail to uncover the truth of the sin. Helping someone recognize their sin is not about reproaching or scolding them, but about showing them with serene realism the wrong they have committed so that they may receive divine forgiveness and avoid eternal damnation. Therefore, a good rule for the confessor is "not to reproach, not to overprotect," but to encourage the faithful, showing them the immense love God has for them, so that they can make small changes and improvements in their lives.
May God grant us priests that we may never tire of hearing confessions and that we may offer generous times for the faithful to receive the sacrament. Leading people to an encounter with Christ and bringing them into contact with divine forgiveness is the very reason for our priestly existence.
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