Related quotes: It is the confession, not...

It is the confession, not the priest, that gives us absolution.

quote by Oscar Wilde
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Related quotes

True confessions

In my youth I was often told
That confession is good,
good for the soul.
In a darkened wooden booth
I was expected to tell the truth.
First a good act of contrition,
Confession and then absolution
Penance would be meted out
Thus expiation came about.

Nowadays that’s thought
Old fashioned.
My local barkeep
hears my confession.
Of course he grants no absolution,
He pours Absinthe
and shows compassion.
And I may or may not
Tell the truth
While contemplating
The Absolute.

poem by John F. McCullagh
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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There is a luxury in self-reproach. When we blame ourselves, we feel that no one else has a right to blame us. It is the confession, not the priest, that gives us absolution.

Oscar Wilde in The Picture of Dorian Gray (1891)
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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From You Fall.

The two catholic priests sat
in the Breakfast Room
off the refectory
in the abbey.

They looked up
when you entered
then continued
their conversation
about Dante
and you poured
yourself a coffee
and a small bowl
of Cornflakes
with a little milk
and sugar.

You sat down
and sipped the coffee.

There were prints
of Michelangelo
on the walls
and a crucifix above
and between
the two doors
that led to the
refectory
where the monks ate
three times a day.

The priests conversed
but said nothing to you.

Their words were uttered
in posh well bred voices.

One said
Few believe in Hell these days
and even fewer in Paradise
and those that do
have vague ideas
gathered from odd books
you find on airport
bookshop shelves.

You listened half heartedly
as they talked.

You wanted to ask
about the place.

Wanted one of them
to hear confession.

Maybe one
to give absolution
and perhaps offer a solution.

You could hear
the footsteps of monks
in the other room
getting their breakfast
of bread and jam
and black French coffee.

One priest laughed.

You never heard the joke.

The other guffawed loudly
in a girlish voice.

And the woman was seen
leaving by the back door
semi dressed and in great distress
the priest continued
And Father Denton
was never the same.

Then they were silent
and stood and smiled
and went their way.

You sat alone in the room.

The Michelangelo prints
reflected the single bulb
hanging above the table.

The Crucified seemed
above it all.

You would find some other
to hear confession.

To give absolution
from your fall.

poem by Terry Collett
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Psychoanalysis is confession without absolution.

quote by G.K. Chesterton
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Psychoanalysis is the confession without absolution.

quote by Germaine Greer
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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At The Confessional Box...

there is this boy
who looks like me when i was once a boy like him

who as taught by the priests
of the catholic schools have to be on a regular confession
inside that box where the priests
listens....

(Father i have sinned, i have not gone to confession
for a week and these are my sins...repeat, repeat, repeat,
and the priest, perhaps tired and
bored says...

my little son, say three hail marys, five our fathers, and 2 glory bes
and if you have time

write a poem) .

and so the poems since then were written.
the boy did not stop to live within that confessional box
the priest died
earlier than expected.

poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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Do It

make your confession alone
before yourself
'in front of a mirror

you man weak
with the will, and the act,
do it

make your confession alone
before yourself
without the priest

put the candle
and beside mirror
even rather small

clean your conscience
more lightly
for you will be

to die...

every your thought
direct
to God

not to people
and stop
already deluding yourself

don't search
at other
consciences

one's you put away
where? I don't know
try to find

make your confession alone
before yourself
in front of a mirror

poem by Maria Barbara Korynt
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Life of a Roman Catholic Priest

A priest is nearest Christ;
A priest is Christ at times;
A priest is almost Christ;
A priest is most divine.

A priest is God’s shepherd;
A priest must tend to flock;
A priest must be like ‘rock’;
A priest should ne’er defrock.

A priest communes with God;
A priest draws hope from Lord;
A priest shows love of Christ;
A priest carries His Cross!

A priest is tempted too;
A priest has falls in life;
A priest falters also;
A priest has strength from Christ.

A priestly job is tough;
A priest’s life can turn rough;
A priest has strife enough,
But has to smile and laugh!

A priest helps harvest souls;
A priest has many roles;
A priest has but one goal –
To drink from Christ’s own bowl!

Pray that more priests should come;
May priests curb their freedom;
May priest usher Kingdom;
A life for Christ’s welcome.

Fondly dedicated to Rev. Fr. Xavier Claudius,
Beloved Parish priest, ‘Holy Family Church, Perundurai

poem by John Celes
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You know, I've got a confession to make myself. I'm not really a priest, I've just got my shirt on backwards.

quote by Ryan Stiles
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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The sinner will not confess, nor will the priest receive his confession, if the veil of secrecy is removed.

quote by DeWitt Clinton
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Unhousel'd, Unanointed, Unanel'd

When these men must go alone
Sans an absolution,
When their sins are heavy as lead,
Thou Thyself will lift the head ;
Thou, High Priest, wilt whisper low,
Te Absolvo! ere they go.

When there is no sacrifice,
Bread and Wine for Thy disguise,
Come Thou in the Spirit then;
As at Agincourt our men
With desire a blade of grass
Served as Eucharist and Mass.

Lay Thyself the oil on lips,
Limbs and eyes, before the eclipse--
As once Magdalen did to Thee--
And so speed them, safe and free,
To lie down with Thee a while
And to waken to Thy smile.

They shall sit down at the Feast
Where Thou are Sacrament and Priest.

poem by Katharine Tynan
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Confession

Listen up
This is confession
This machine motion is sure to break my heart
Listen up
This is confession
Recorded music sticks in the throat of god.
I o u, you dont own me
I o u, you dont own me
Party time, one mor night, everybodys affected
Listen up
This is confession
You are a poison that flows into my veins.
Listen up
This is confession
Ive never been so scared of letting you down.
You know me, so come closer
You know me, so come closer
Party time, one more town, everybodys affected.
I know you, you dont need me
I know you, you dont need me
Party time, one more girl, everybodys affected
Listen up
This is confession
They tell me heaven just has to be somewhere
Listen up
This is confession
Id lie to God if I could make him believe.
You owe me, and I need you
You owe me, and I need you
Party time, one more game, everybodys affected
This is my confession
This is my confession
Party time, one more lie, everybodys affected

song performed by by Gary Numan
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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As however the ancients say that in case of necessity any Christian lay person can administer the sacrament of Baptism, so Luther says the same thing about absolution in case of necessity, where no priest is present.

quote by Martin Chemnitz
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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I hesitate to deposit money in a bank. I am afraid I shall never dare to take it out again. When you go to confession and entrust your sins to the safe-keeping of the priest, do you ever come back for them?

quote by Jean Baudrillard
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Absolution

I would swim across oceans
Just to talk with you
I would climb a tall mountain
Just to look at you
Id give my soul to the devil
If you asked me to
I would walk out of heaven
Just to be with you
This is absolute
This is absolution
I will be your disciple
And Ill worship you
Burn the prophets of reason
Light the sky for you
Kill the children of eden
If you want me to
Close the dead eyes of god
If they offended you
This is absolute
This is absolution

song performed by by Gary Numan
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Mary and the Old Priest.

The old priest sat
in the dark of the
confessional. A girl
had entered on the
other side and knelt.

A rustle of clothing,
breathing, a cough.
He was prepared for
the list of sins, the
the soft voice verbal

sprouting, the usual
schoolgirl misdemeanours.
Yes my child? He said.
Mary on the other
side stared at the grille,

tried to make out which
was the priest. Bless me
Father she began, then
the list ran. The priest
placed his hands over

his ears. The list was long,
indelicate, touching on
the obscene. He fumbled
with his beads, tried to
make out the voice,

the owner, which girl?
He thought, peering into
the grille, his eyes searching
through the semi dark.
Mary pushed her knees

together; she sensed the
need to pee. She knelt holding
herself in, pushed her hands
between thighs. How long
was the old codger going to be?

She mused. The priest coughed.
Sniffed, tried to discover the
scent. He said the usual words,
about trying to avoid the occasion
of sin, have faith, and so forth

uttered in a strained voice.
He peered hard. The outlined
figure fidgeted, moved from side
to side. Never in his born days
had he. He uttered the absolution,

made a sign of the cross. Then
she was gone. The light there
then not there. A smell of sin?
What was it? No, not urine?

poem by Terry Collett
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I Know There Are Other Kinds Of Poetry

I know there are other kinds of Poetry-
I know for many a confession cannot be a poem-
But for me my confession is my poem
And my writing what I most intensely think and feel
And need to say-

It may not be Poetry for you
And it may not speak to you at all,
I don't want you to waste your time
With what is meaningless for you-

But if the poetry of Confession
And mine in particular
Can be poetry for you,
Thank you for giving my lines
Some time and attention.

poem by Shalom Freedman
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Like Father Like Son

He was raised in the english way
His daddy taught him respect, he taught him how to pray
They sent him off to boarding school
Where he learned how to live by someone elses rule
And he went to confession
He went to confession
Holy father wash my sins away
He went to confession
He went to confession
Mother mary take the pain away
He read letters from home at night in his bed
And got this uneasy feeling when his father said
Fear of God and the feel of the rod
Will raise a good boy
The fear of God and the feel of the rod
Will raise a good boy
He bought his daddys car and he learned to drive
And when he left school he got a nine to five
He met the girl and he got his spouse
And they had the child and they got the house
And he went to confession
He went to confession
Holy father wash my sins away
He went to confession
He went to confession
Mother mary take the pain away
He loved his son and he helped him build walls and fronts
He knew hed heard it before
Someone had said it once
Fear of God and the feel of the rod
Will raise a good boy
The fear of God and the feel of the rod
Will raise a good boy
He raised his son in the english way
And he taught him respect, he taught him how to pray
He sent him off to boarding school
Where he learned how to live by someone elses rules
And he went to confession
He went to confession
Holy father wash my sins away
He went to confession
He went to confession
Mother mary take the pain away
It must be something much deeper than fear or pain
Another child learns a pattern he wont break the chain
Fear of God and the feel of the rod
Will raise a good boy
The fear of God and the feel of the rod
Will raise a good boy
The fear of God and the feel of the rod
Will raise the next boy

song performed by by Rick Springfield
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Plea

Secrets, you said, would hold us two apart;
You'd have me know of you your least transgression,
And so the intimate places of your heart,
Kneeling, you bared to me, as in confession.
Softly you told of loves that went before-
Of clinging arms, of kisses gladly given;
Luxuriously clean of heart once more,
You rose up, then, and stood before me, shriven.

When this, my day of happiness, is through,
And love, that bloomed so fair, turns brown and brittle,
There is a thing that I shall ask of you-
I, who have given so much, and asked so little.
Some day, when there's another in my stead,
Again you'll feel the need of absolution,
And you will go to her, and bow your head,
And offer her your past, as contribution.

When with your list of loves you overcome her,
For Heaven's sake, keep this one secret from her!

poem by Dorothy Parker
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