A Sickening Experience

After five years of living in Italy, the inevitable finally happened.  I got sick.

After feeling terrible for a couple days, despite my general avoidance of doctors and the medical profession, my illness would wait no longer.  Amidst the coughing, headaches, and fevers, I drove to a nearby town, and then to another town, less nearby.  (The priest giving me directions got confused as to which office the doctor was at that day).

If my single experience is the norm, seeing a doctor in Italy is different than in the United States.  For starters there is no pleasant waiting room.  Rather, there is a row of chairs, down a dark narrow hallway, with a single room at the end.  There are also no appointments.  It’s first-come, first served.

Fortunately, Mondays seem to be an infrequent day for illness.  My wait to see the doctor at the end of the hallway was only two or three minutes.

After a lengthy introduction and a sharing of stories, I was subject to a very hasty examination of my lungs and an even more cursory check of my throat.  At the end of the latter, the doctor exclaimed, “Fa schifo!” that is, “It’s disgusting!”  I had hoped for a more detailed diagnosis, but, as far as I could tell, that was the diagnosis.

Prescribing Pharmaceuticals

The doctor explained what medicines I should take, with what frequency, and for how long.  Of course, I nodded like I understood perfectly, thinking that the bottles would have instructions on them, like in the States.  Hence, I paid little attention to his copious hand-written notes on the dosing, timing, and whatever else was contained in his cryptic doctor scrawl, since he was also typing information into the computer.

After typing the prescriptions out, printing them, and handing them to me along with his notes, he sent me on my merry way.  Fortunately, his office was in a narrow alley right behind a pharmacy.  I figured the worst was behind me.  Medicines provide an easy cure for ‘disgusting throat.’

But, as I found out, the Italian pharmacy system is also different from the American system.

Medicinal Mayhem

I presented the prescriptions to the pharmacy staff, and, somewhat surprisingly, the staff quickly filled them.  The employees simply pulled the correct boxes from the shelves, put them a bag, and then handed the package to me.  There were no bottles, no instructions, nothing – simply the medicines in their original packaging.

I had hoped at least for a reminder or a suggestion as to how to interpret the doctor’s shorthand notes but received nothing other than a polite request to pay.  I did so and left the pharmacy.

I was still not sure about how, when, or which meds to take, but I was also slightly amazed.  The entire process, from seeing the doctor to receiving the medicines took less than 20 minutes.

Of course, I was also still unsure of my diagnosis or how the medicines would provide a cure. Fortunately, the physician did properly diagnose the problem.  Within a day I was already on the path to recovery.

The Lord Jesus Christ, Our Physician

I suspect many of us look at the Sacrament of Confession much like we consider a visit to the doctor. If we can avoid it, we do, but sometimes we just have to go.  In part, the Church herself points this out in the “Catechism of the Catholic Chrich.”  In introducing “the sacraments of healing,” we read in paragraph 1421:

The Lord Jesus Christ, physician of our souls and bodies, who forgave the sins of the paralytic and restored him to bodily health, has willed that his Church continue, in the power of the Holy Spirit, his work of healing and salvation, even among her own members. This is the purpose of the two sacraments of healing: the sacrament of Penance and the sacrament of Anointing of the Sick.

In many ways, the analogy of a doctor’s visit is quite apt. After all, I do not think many people would say they “like” going to Confession.  As the phrase goes: “I don’t like writing; I like having written.”  In a similar way, I think many of us don’t like Confession; however, we do like the feeling of having been to confession.

The Bite of Sin

Like going to the doctor, going to Confession requires that we acknowledge our illness.  We must own up to our condition of sin so that healing can take place.

In his “Commentary on Ecclesiastes,” Saint Jerome offers a thoughtful comparison.  He writes: “If the serpent, the devil, bites someone secretly, he infects that person with the venom of sin. And if the one who has been bitten keeps silence and does not do penance, and does not want to confess his wound . . . then his brother and his master, who have the word [of absolution] that will cure him, cannot very well assist him.”

If we don’t reveal our wounds, then the Divine Physician cannot heal them.

A Mean Doctor?

Of course, sometimes people are reluctant to go to the doctor.  This is because they are afraid of what the doctor will say and what might be the diagnosis.  The same could be said of going to Confession.

Sometimes the situation is made even worse when the priest is dismissive or cruel.  In these moments, it’s important to remember that priests, like all human beings, have their limits and failings as well! So, as a priest, I hereby apologize for any time a confession has been a bad experience because the confessor was rushed or came across as insensitive or uncaring.

The Catechism reminds us that “only God forgives sin” (1441), but that He uses priests as His instruments (1444). And just like the first apostles, no priest is perfect.  Some priests have obvious flaws, but, in the sacraments, they still dispense God’s mercy.  While I would have greatly preferred that my physician not label my tonsils as “disgusting,” nevertheless, he did get to the root of the problem and solve it.

Penance as Medicine

Likewise, we can see in the penance that we are given the medicine that should help remedy our spiritual illness.  The Catechism explains this nicely (1459-1460):

Many sins wrong our neighbor. One must do what is possible in order to repair the harm (e.g., return stolen goods, restore the reputation of someone slandered, pay compensation for injuries). Simple justice requires as much. But sin also injures and weakens the sinner himself, as well as his relationships with God and neighbor. Absolution takes away sin, but it does not remedy all the disorders sin has caused. Raised up from sin, the sinner must still recover his full spiritual health by doing something more to make amends for the sin: he must “make satisfaction for” or “expiate” his sins. This satisfaction is also called “penance.”

The penance the confessor imposes must take into account the penitent’s personal situation and must seek his spiritual good. It must correspond as far as possible with the gravity and nature of the sins committed. It can consist of prayer, an offering, works of mercy, service of neighbor, voluntary self-denial, sacrifices, and above all the patient acceptance of the cross we must bear. Such penances help configure us to Christ, who alone expiated our sins once for all.

Confession as Medicine

As a book from my childhood proclaims, “It’s no fun to be sick!”  This is true both on the physical as well as the spiritual level.  For the physical realm, we have doctors of the body; for the spiritual realm, we have doctors of the soul.  Both offer us what we need, and help us to live as men and women who are fully alive.