Philippine is baptized and confirmed. She receives Communion every Sunday. She has received the anointing of the sick more than once. But when it comes to the sacrament of confession: I had doubts.
A priest friend who teaches theology had told us: "Through the anointing of the sick, Philippine receives God's forgiveness. But she cannot receive the sacrament of Reconciliation because it requires confession." Fair enough.
During an Ombres & Lumière pilgrimage to Rome, a priest I was speaking with said to me: "I disagree. Philippine must receive the sacrament of forgiveness, even if she cannot speak." Fair enough.
I let time pass—partly from negligence, partly from fear of being misunderstood.
When I see in a priest's eyes, as I sensed in this case, that disability calls forth sentimentality, I simply cannot bear it.
Then came the Year of Mercy. Ombres & Lumière published Monsignor Daucourt's testimony about confession for people with disabilities. I felt some hope returning. I decided to contact my parish priest. Rather than face his look, I sent my husband with a copy of O&L and wrote an email: "We ask for God's forgiveness for Philippine. Will you do as Monsignor Daucourt does?" His answer: "I fully agree."
On the appointed day, we brought Philippine in her wheelchair and stepped away. That gesture alone moved me. Already, the fact that I didn't have to act as intermediary—as I always do—felt like an act of trust in God. How can I describe my joy when I saw from a distance my Philippine smiling at the priest who stood very close to her, speaking beside her face, his arm extended toward her? A father holding his child. I saw a living image before my eyes.
Words we hear so often: "Your sin matters little, what you say matters little, God loves you and forgives you"—they took on such weight that I was shaken. Philippine was happy, and she stayed happy all weekend. This was not only about her. It is the whole Church that needs to rethink how people without speech can receive absolution, to show that forgiveness is far more than a confession of sins. It is the joy of being loved by God.
Sophie Lutz, 2017 (O&L n. 216)
Translated by Rita Massi
