Confession as a very low church “sacrament"

I have to admit that thinking about sacramental confession feels a bit odd up here in Gelugpa Vatican. Among the four Tibetan schools, the Gelugs are known as the Jesuits of Buddhism. Their theological dialectic is scholastic, lots of logic and debate. Up in the temple in the afternoon, or walking down Jogiwara Road after class, we hear monks and nuns training in the open-air "debate grounds." They are very loud and animated.

Part of me just wants to say: how complicated do you have to make it? There are a lot of people who say that about the Gelugpa, despite the Dalai Lama’s trying to present basic Buddhist tenets in a more accessible language. But I have a confession to make to my former Jesuit friends. I think the same thing about some of the dialectic that goes on here--way too complicated. Another thing that may be different, here one side is not trying to damage a position that the other has posited. It is done entirely in the spirit of clarifying your own line of thought.

So I have a few comments regarding "confession." Having a place that is dedicated to peoples’ dying just naturally brings up a lot of typically religious issues. I am writing to clarify my own thoughts and perhaps stimulate some conversation. It does make a difference if we are clear about the ways that regret, remedy and forgiveness operate in the human mind.

When I was working at Maitri Hospice, I heard several "confessions." I was never ordained as a Catholic priest-I took a leave of absence about 6 months before ordination and did not return. Although in Buddhism there is recognition of karma and hindrances, actions and attitudes that stand in life's way, and there are also ceremonies of confession and repentance, and even conversations between teacher and student that can include dealing with hindrances and obstacles, there is no promise of forgiveness--the only remedy is practice and right action. So I feel some sympathy with the conservative point of view that if, for example, a man or woman were to confess they'd used contraception, but had no real resolve to discontinue birth control, he or she should be denied absolution. (I remember at Fairfield Prep I could always tell which other guys had not been able to resist `abusing themselves' that week just by looking at who else was in the long line for Father Tolerant's confessional, and my sympathy evaporates).

But there I was standing with another man at the edge of life--certain death approaching far too quickly, and he wanted to talk, mostly about unfinished business. There was usually no possibility of a formal confession. There had been far too much water under the bridge to have that kind of reconciliation though on one occasion I remember, after we talked, the guy asked me to go get the priest from Most Holy Redeemer, which I did.

There were some real issues regarding end of life care that were relatively easy--and by the way, in almost every case, left to the last possible moment. On several occasions the concern was that estranged parents would come along after death and take real property where a partner was not on the deed--I arranged for a lawyer, usually pro-bono, to do something about a will.

But there were also things that I found very difficult to listen to, regrets, sadness, remorse, shame, guilt, or pain. My first impulse was that I had to do something, or wish that I could do something, but I was powerless. All I could do was listen. Trying to get in and fix the situation actually stood in the way of really listening. Looking back, most of the conversations were about hopes that still lingered, relationships that had taken a wrong turn, promises that couldn't be kept--all this against the background of not enough time. I might think of trying to set up some kind of reconciliation or mediation, talking to parents, former boyfriends, but then I’d realize that it was not my job.

What was my job? I remember on one occasion, Phil talked about Issan's ability to just listen to a conversation, say a few words, exactly the words that were needed, and some resolution did fall into place. My feeling is that this was just a result of his great compassion. He listened with such deep sympathy and understanding that things just happened. I also know that sometimes he was not completely accurate in his own understanding. Like with James, his love got in the way. His personal attachment. I don't think that he ever felt that he had to resolve a situation or that he could. He felt regret and pain when confronted by great unhappiness.

On one occasion I learned about a young man's plan to commit suicide. (There were two other times when I am sure that the person, a resident--we didn't call them patients--committed suicide). But this time the nurse told me that a volunteer had overheard a conversation where the man asked his friends to bring a lethal dose of something. Then the person himself complained that his confidentiality had been violated. So I talked to him. It was clear that he was determined to end his life before the real possibility of extremely painful death. He was also careful to say that no one would be implicated. Now I consider suicide as interfering with the course of life and I have a vow not to kill, or be party to any form of killing. But still I went to the nurse and asked her not to report the overheard conversation. I then asked the guy to talk about his fear of death, that I would just listen without any judgment. Or as best I could. A few weeks later I was in Hawaii for a retreat and heard that he had died, presumably by his own hand.