Early in my journey within the Church, I experienced many visceral negative reactions.
One was the terminology of the “Reconciliation Room”, compared to the “Confessional Booth.” Part of this was just my ignorance in thinking that reconciliation was a more wimpy word. Added to that was the aesthetics of the reconciliation rooms I found in parishes, or lack of aesthetics. More like a repurposed closet than a fitting place for such an amazing sacrament. If it was a closet, there would be danger of all my past sins falling on me like the junk in Fibber McGee’s hall closet.
Later I would learn this about the world “reconciliation” in Fr. Blake Britton’s book “Reclaiming Vatican II.”
The combination recon means “to come back together.” Cilia is the Latin word for “eyelash.” To be reconciled, therefore, means to be eyelash-to-eyelash with God, to be brought into such a profound intimacy that your eyelashes are touching each other.
I still very much dislike the reconciliation room that is like a multi-purpose room that is repurposed as the parish needs on a day-to-day basis. That the sacrament is available, at all, is what I should be grateful for.
Puns spur many of my internal theological reflections. I am attempting to meditate and then I play with a word, looking for possible puns. That this happens in my mind will not surprise those who know my predilection for puns.
Before Mass one morning, I had observed a line of people in line for reconciliation. I invented a portmanteau “retcon-ciliation” and that this had deeper theological significance I could reflect on. Retcon, the short term for retroactive continuity, as used in various forms of fiction.
For many of us, the story of our lives comes to a point where we want to break out of the restraints we have placed on ourselves. Wanting a new storyline, instead of the constant reruns of our past mistakes. How can I alter previous established patterns of vice and break from them? Am I my authentic self if I break out of them? It is easy to equate our sins with the identification of ourselves. I can think of myself as a fraud if I allow God’s grace to transform me.
For as high as the heavens are above the earth,
so great is his steadfast love toward those who fear him;
as far as the east is from the west,
so far does he remove our transgressions from us. (Ps 103:11–12).
Retconning in fiction usually comes across as just a trick to extend a franchise into the future and to either alter or ignore past events. Retconciliation as done in the sacrament, can let us become our authentic selves less marred by sin.
In fiction, we can be annoyed when a character presumed dead, is retconned back. This appears inconsistent and we can lose trust in the storyteller. With retconciliation, you may be brought back from death in mortal sin, and this is totally consistent with a loving God.
