The American writer Paul Auster, in his book "I thought my father was God", collects the very diverse anecdotes sent to him by his listeners for a radio program... The premise he set for reading these stories every night is that they "break the mold". This column takes its title from one of them: Clean the guilt - wash away the guilt.
The protagonist of this story (Warning! This is a super spoiler) tells how, in the midst of a rebellious season of her newfound youth, she found a note by her bedside written by her mother in which she read "Clean the guilt - Washing away the guilt."
She herself describes that her family was not exactly religious and those words haunted her for weeks... and, directly or indirectly, she began to change some things... yes, "one wonderful day, almost miraculous, it must have been a clear and sunny day, I returned home, went up to my room, looked at the notebook and it said: 'Washing the quilt - Clean the quilt'".
I suppose she washed the quilt but, above all, as she narrates, almost unconsciously she was washing her life. In the case of our friend, who was not Catholic, the sacrament of reconciliation did not enter her life. Catholics, however, have an easy solution when we read the note next to our bedside table. As stated in the Grant for 24 hours for the Lord which we will begin in a few hours: "God forgives every repentant sinner, personally, but the Christian is united to Christ, and Christ is united to the Church. For us Christians there is one more gift, and there is also one more commitment: to pass humbly through the ecclesial ministry. This we must value; it is a gift, a care, a protection and it is also the assurance that God has forgiven me".
With confession, done well, Catholics have the certainty that God forgives us, and not only forgives, but forgets our sins. There is nothing more distant from a Catholic going to confession than the feeling of guilt because, in the words of "C" Anello, the young protagonist of a Bronx story, "It was great to be Catholic and go to confession. You could start from scratch every week.
To start from scratch, to be born again, to forget our sins and also to ask for forgiveness, to be aware of our limitations without this being a problem but rather an opportunity to love, ... this really makes our salvation story a narrative that breaks the schemes of our current society.
To confess is to assume our guilt and erase it; to take the quilt with the marks that we have made with the remains of the dirt we stepped on, and drag it to the washing machine. Even if it weighs a little, even if it is uncomfortable to handle, even if, deep down, we think that "it doesn't look so dirty" and that we could rub here and there, without having to go through the machine.
Although it is unlikely that God will leave us notes on the bedside table, always, but perhaps even more so during Lent, it is a good time to wash the quilt of our life thoroughly, with the help of those priests, professionals in the field, who can help us in this task.... Ah! And if you need to wash the bed quilt, take advantage of it too, as the weather is starting to get good.
Editor-in-Chief at Omnes. Degree in Communication, with more than 15 years of experience in Church communication. She has collaborated in media such as COPE or RNE.
