Dear Theophilous,
It’s over 20 years ago, but it still haunts me like it was
this morning. My wife (fiancée at the time) and I were visiting the priest who
was going to marry us at St. Augustine’s Seminary in Toronto, where he was
teaching. We were heading out to lunch, and as we drove down the long driveway
we saw an older man off to the side of the road juggling shopping bags and
trying to open a gate that was obviously stuck.
“Poor old guy,” Father commented from the back seat. I
murmured agreement and continued to roll down the drive. Just as we were about
to roll past where the older gent was still struggling with the gate Father
piped up, “Stop the car!” He then proceeded to jump out and easily lift the
gate so it could swing open. When he got back in the car, Father didn’t say a
word, but I looked sheepishly forward, embarrassed that I had not stepped up to
the plate when God had provided me with the opportunity.
My wife, Father and the old gentleman have probably all long
forgotten the incident. For me, however, it still lingers in the recesses of my
conscience.
I had sinned.
I hadn’t done anything wrong. I hadn’t broken any of the
commandments. In fact, I hadn’t done anything at all. And that’s my point. By
deliberately choosing to drive on by, I had committed a sin of omission.
Prattling off the Confiteor by rote each week, we probably
don’t notice it, but we are reminded that the good we don’t do can be just as
damning as the sins we wilfully commit:
I confess to Almighty
God,
And to you, my bothers
and sisters,
That I have sinned,
In my thoughts and in
my words;
In what I have done,
and in what I have failed to do.
Through my fault,
through my fault, through my most grievous fault…
Going into the confessional, it’s easy (kind of…) to list
the sins we have committed. We have the 10 Commandments and the Beatitudes to
guide our examination of conscience. I actually have an app that takes me
through the process, gives me a check list of all my faults, which I then
scratch in hieroglyphs onto a piece of paper so I don’t forget anything.
But what about sins of omission? How do we recognize what we
have failed to do?
Do you look the other way when passing a hand stretched out
for spare change?
Do you give up your seat on the bus?
Do you offer half a sandwich to the co-worker with no lunch?
Do you offer to carry a senior’s groceries to their car?
Do you defend the faith when someone slanders the Church?
Do you take a stand for life? Marriage?
Do you hold the door open, or let it close in someone’s
face?
Do you say thank you when you receive?
Do you wave when someone lets you into traffic?
As long as the list of sins I’ve committed is long, I’d bet
that my list of sins of omission is just as long, if not longer.
Satan must kill himself laughing each time he sees us ignore
the chance to do God’s will. This is his greatest secret. Daily we’re offered a
multitude of opportunities to do God’s will, yet we choose to turn the other
way. Lucifer doesn’t even have to lift a finger, and we quietly turn from God
towards him.
To combat this, I’ve tried to consciously change the tactics
of my examination of conscience. Not only do I reflect on the sins I have committed,
I try to pick out the moments when I have failed to do good in the world. I
look for the opportunities God gave me to be a witness to His love in the world
and I failed to rise to the challenge. I confess these shortcomings and resolve
to do better in the future.
If you understand that the burning of fossil fuel is the cause of increasingly extreme weather and you live as you always have and act as if there is nothing you can do about it, is that a sin of omission?
ReplyDeleteIf you refuse to believe - despite overwhelming evidence - that the burning of fossil fuel is changing the climate, is that a sin of omission?
ReplyDelete