Live among men as if God beheld you; speak with God as if men were listening.
-Seneca, Epistle X
One of the things that I find particularly wonderful about the Daily Office is that we confess our sins to God daily. If we follow the pattern of Morning and Evening Prayer, we do it twice a day. In doing this, it forces you to rethink your actions, knowing that later in the day, or early the next morning you'll be confessing your little rebellion to God.
As I went through today's Evening Prayer, I read about how many people came to John the Baptist, confessing their sins (v.6), and getting baptized in the Jordan river. People were coming and confessing their sins publicly to John, who then baptized them. There's a double meaning here of the word confess. They simultaneously confessed their sins and confessed their faith in that they believed the Truth of what John told them, and acted accordingly.
The fact that we corporately confess our sins to God reaffirms our faith, and allows us to acknowledge one to the other, that we are all sinners. And this is a very healing process, done in public and done in community. Even more healing is the act of reconciliation, which brings healing by bringing to light that which we hope to conceal. James 5.16 tells us to confess our sins to one another ... that we may be healed. Earlier in his epistle, Seneca wrote:
No thoughtless person ought to be left alone; in such cases he only plans folly, and heaps up future dangers for himself or for others; he brings into play his base desires; the mind displays what fear or shame used to repress; it whets his boldness, stirs his passions, and goads his anger. In other words, left to itself, our mind begins to pull together all the human weaknesses and failings, and put them together into one giant dark void, bereft of light. Many years ago, in my absolute rage over something (and someone), I contemplated —at length— the words, "sniper rifle with silencer." Not my finest hour. It's in confession, the active telling, out loud, of our inner thoughts, that we realize how idiotic our thoughts and desires really can be. And we are restored, reconciled.
Before making the statement above, Seneca also stated, quoting Athenodorus:
"Know that thou art freed from all desires when thou hast reached such a point that thou prayest to God for nothing except what thou canst pray for openly." But how foolish men are now! They whisper the basest of prayers to heaven; but if anyone listens, they are silent at once. That which they are unwilling for men to know, they communicate to God.
It was this statement that piqued my interest and reminded me of confession. Because, if we truly are capable of praying all our prayers our loud, we do several things all at once: we confess our sins to God and others, thereby bringing healing through joined prayer efforts; we create in ourselves a desire to change, either the termination of our own private addictions, or in the reconciliation of estranged relationships — having to pray about my continued anger at ______________ reminds me of my need to incarnate my faith; and finally, it brings the Truth of Christ into the realm of that dark void that we and others create in our own minds, and which, if allowed to grow, allows us to live out some of the worst of ourselves.
James 2.12 tells us to "so speak and so act as those who are to be judged under the law of liberty." In its greater context, this verse talks about sin, about reconciliation, and about our base desires — lived out among those around us so that they see what & who, and most importantly, whose we are. If we do as James commands, we are confessing our faith in the way we live, and that means living as though "God beheld us," and talking with God and others as though all were listening. While Seneca didn't believe in the same God I do, I think he understood the necessity for confession and confessing.
