A look at the relevance of confession

Renewing Yourself Through
the Practice of Honesty

By Paul Wilkes

Workman. 144 pp. $18.95

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Reviewed by Elizabeth Eisenstadt Evans

Someone on the Internet confessional

» READ MORE: www.confessions.net

hurt his hamster while cutting its hair. Someone else is cheating on his girlfriend. Another poster is having a tough time breaking an addiction to the

World of Warcraft

, according to recent posts.

Check out the websites that allow anonymous virtual admissions. Listen to guests on television talk shows. Watch a news conference held by yet another errant politician.

We live in an age awash in self-revelation.

Yet, without the practice of reflection and self-appraisal, argues Paul Wilkes in this heartfelt plea for a renewal and expansion of the spiritual practice of confession, our culture offers nothing but the frisson of catharsis without real change.

"Confession," writes Wilkes "is also a pillar of mental health, for confession is about self-examination. It demands something for which there is no substitute: that we be honest with ourselves."

The writer begins his book on an optimistic note that persists throughout, in spite of the volume's serious topic.

A Catholic whose most recent book is In Due Season: A Catholic Life, Wilkes diagrams dysfunction in hope of revealing the "better self" he believes is at the core of our nature.

"Deep within every human heart," he writes, "there is the desire to be good." That quest is driven by conscience, "a mysterious force within that urges us towards good actions and away from the bad."

Careful to disassociate "small c" confession, or a "conversation with ourselves," from the liturgical rite practiced for centuries by the Roman Catholic Church, Wilkes seems to be reaching out to readers who may have deep roots in a particular faith tradition, or no roots at all.

On the one hand, he acknowledges that constructing rituals for admitting wrongdoing and for penitence is entwined with the world's major faiths. On the other, he sees the development of conscience, and the way that instinctual reactions to transgressions become decisive choices, as evolutionary phenomena.

The confessional impulse, argues the writer, evolved somewhere near the beginning of civilized life, when "one human being did something wrong and with downturned eyes 'admitted' his offense."

Journeying from ancient Egypt to modern mainstream religions, the writer traces the movement from proscriptions and punishments to personal accountability and from the rule of law to the idea that individual consciences are inspired by God.

Under Freud and his followers, psychoanalysis attempted to find the truths repressed by the patient that spurred them to act in unhealthy ways. On the other hand, writes Wilkes, confession is both an admission that human beings are compromised by sinful behavior that violates themselves and others, and a declaration of faith in human goodness and worth.

"We don't need a learned psychologist or a survey or Jiminy Cricket to tell us what we already instinctively know," he writes. "The true home of our conscience is not within our limited rational powers. Its true home is beyond reason. I believe it is a part of us untouched by anything other than the divine, our soul."

It is the conscience that tells us when we have strayed off course, according to Wilkes, and confession which allows us to turn away from the shoals of our secrets, evasions, and guilt.

The latter part of the book is concerned (and some readers may be tempted to jump to it) with the practicalities of confession: how, and to whom, do we confess?

While recommending a return to one's childhood faith tradition, the writer also offers readers various pathways to self-reflection, some of which can be adapted for use by nonbelievers.

All confession involves some element of risk and thus of fear, argues the writer. But there may come a time when avoidance is no longer possible and when we are impelled to own up to our actions.

"When need becomes overwhelming, when what we are holding back is negatively affecting the lives of others or damaging our own, crippling us emotionally as we keep up pretenses, it is time to risk disclosure." While owning up may bring a sense of relief, Wilkes is candid about the possibility that renewal, or dealing with the roots of the problem that caused the misdeeds in the first place, is a tougher job.

Wilkes offers a set of questions designed to help readers decide when to confess, whether a confession to someone else is necessary, and different types of confession. He also briefly addresses the possibility that there are times when it is simply better to carry one's secrets in solitude.

It is the choices we make after we bare our souls that will shape our future and can move us forward one step at a time, he suggests. "Whether we whisper our disclosures to our inner accountant or announce them in a more formal admission of wrongdoing, what happens after our confession is the most important part," the writer tells us.

While there are many trenchant insights and useful practices here, the book suffers because they are not fully developed, leaving readers tantalized but not satisfied. In addition, it is helpful to remember up front that the writer's rather rosy view of human potential tilts heavily Roman Catholic - a Calvinist would have a much darker perspective.

But for those grappling with inner conflict or for those simply exhausted by a society in which exposure is often confused with remorse, Wilkes offers both corrective and hope - the "next right thing" on the road to a more integrated life.

That's a modest achievement - but a real one.

Adding their reflections as Wilkes builds his case for "the discipline of self-reflection," a rabbi, priest, psychiatrist, and Roman Catholic nun provide interfaith and psychological perspectives on the healing power of confession.