One of Lent’s compelling narratives comes in the ritual of Confession. Its verbiage is striking: “Our fault, our own fault, our own most grievous fault.” These words suggest something more than garden-variety sinfulness or the “mortal sins” that Roman Catholics name as the most serious. Not only do we own our unrighteousness, but also openly admit its severe consequences: In a word: It’s grievous….
Thinking about “grievous” helps me realize how my sinfulness might bring grief to others—to God and to my own life as well. My faults are more than just a laundry list of misdeeds and missed virtues. “My own fault” prompts the realization that, just as fault lines fracture the earth beneath me, so, too, what I do and don’t do can rupture what’s good and godly. My errors can ripple out into the world with continuing consequences.
When I admit that I may be a grief-bringer, I’m connecting my actions and thoughts to consequences that cause others to suffer. It’s sobering to realize that I may be harming people—bringing them sorrow, pain or woe. This isn’t good, and it’s not something I would ever name as part of my life’s purpose.
“My own most grievous fault” reminds me of my continuing need to repent. To name what’s not-so-good about Good Old Bob. This confession might accuse and humble me, but it can also motivate me to change whatever about me is causing grief.
Wallowing in sinfulness is no way to get God’s work done. If my own most grievous faults are serious stuff, so is forgiveness. I can trust the power of God’s absolution to take me past my guilt towards grateful and gladsome Gospel-living.
But first I would do well to remember how I may be a cause for your grief….
(To receive these entries when they are posted, go to the upper right-hand corner of the top banner and click on the three dots or parallel lines. Scroll down to the subscription form and enter your information.)
