Confession getting a makeover

HIGHLANDS RANCH, Colo. — The Rev. Larry Solan sets aside a half-hour every Saturday to hear the failings of his flock at St. Mark Catholic Church. On a typical week, he sees two penitents, perhaps three. Some weeks, no one comes.

On one Saturday, he waits 10 minutes, 20. His confessional remains empty.

Confession is not what it used to be in the Roman Catholic Church; cultural and theological shifts have pushed the age-old sacrament aside. In the mid-1960s, 38 percent of Catholics said they went to confession at least once a month. These days, 2 percent do. More than 40 percent never go.

Church leaders have tried to revive interest in what's now commonly referred to as reconciliation with tactics as varied as radio ads and a strip-mall chapel dedicated solely to confessions.

The Vatican has allowed priests to do away with the traditional wooden confessional in favor of more relaxed, face-to-face encounters.

Outside the Catholic church, too, confession is being reshaped, by Protestant megachurch pastors who see the ritual as a self-help tool for the lost and lonely — and a marketing opportunity.

Click on IveScrewedUp.com, and you're invited to type in a description of your sins, along with your age and hometown. Click "send" and it's done; you've confessed ... to the webmaster of Flamingo Road Church, a Florida congregation affiliated with the Southern Baptist Convention.

"I'm a patholgical liar. About everything. To everyone."

"I have a compulsive shopping disorder, I spend way too much money on dresses."

"I constantly smoke marijuana while I am supposed to be looking for a job."

The confessions are screened for obscenities or identifying information (but not for typos or misspellings), and posted for all to read. Some are wry; some are frightening; many are sad.

Although they write anonymously, many sinners ask for help, from God or from a stranger who might see their posting and pray for them.

"It does break your heart," said Flamingo Road Pastor Troy Gramling. He and his staff pray over every confession.

Several other confessional sites also hold out the promise of catharsis, with a vaguely religious gloss. The Universal Life Church, famed for do-it-yourself ordinations, offers an online "Absolution of Sins Application Form."

Catholics can try absolution-online.com, which invites you to fill a shopping cart with your sins (choices include calumny, vainglory and disregard for the environment). The site, which is not endorsed by the church, then calculates an appropriate penance, say, 228 Hail Marys and 43 Our Fathers.

The two biggest church-sponsored Web sites, IveScrewedUp and MySecret.tv/, allow readers to scroll through pages of angst from anorexic teens, abusive parents and porn-addicted pastors. It quickly becomes clear there's no such thing as an original sin.

MySecret also refers sinners to a list of self-help books and links to the sponsoring church, an Oklahoma congregation named after its Web site.

Scott Thumma, who studies the sociology of religion, sees sites such as MySecret as marketing tools. Such churches often serve as host to spectacular performances (a Cirque du Soleil-style Easter play) and edgy Web sites to attract "unbelievers who otherwise would never darken the door of a church," Thumma said.

"The idea is to bring in the masses," said Thumma, co-author of the new book "Beyond Megachurch Myths."

These pastors often turn sermons into self-help pep talks: How to build a good marriage; how to manage a hectic schedule; how to live debt-free. The brisk practicality of the online confession fits into that culture.

The Catholic sacrament of confession, by contrast, is about healing a ruptured relationship with God.

Through much of the 20th century, American Catholics viewed confession as a solemn obligation. At least once a month, they'd kneel in the wood-paneled box and recite the familiar words of contrition: Forgive me, Father, for I have sinned. It has been two weeks since my last confession. I yelled at my wife. I kicked the dog.

By the 1960s, however, confession began to lose its hold. This was the era of the Vietnam War and the civil-rights movement. Kicking the dog no longer seemed all that important.

"The clarity about what sin was was dissipating," said James O'Toole , a professor of Catholic history at Boston College.

Attendance at confession plunged and never rebounded.

In an effort to nudge Catholics back into the habit, the U.S. liturgy office has published an eight-step guide to confession. With the Vatican's approval, some priests have moved away from the mechanical confessions of the past.

At St. Mark, Solan sees most penitents face-to-face in a "reconciliation room." Those who want privacy pull a curtain to divide the room.

Solan still follows a script, but he makes clear that he wants to hear more than a laundry list of minor misdeeds. He asks penitents to truly reflect on how they've strayed.

It's not supposed to be easy or convenient, said Stacie Kishiyama, 38, the only penitent to confess to Solan that Saturday.

She doesn't think of confession as clearing a guilty conscience; to her, it's about coming back into the fullness of God's grace. She can't imagine doing that with a mouse click.

Neither can Solan.