Catholics who faithfully go to confession are unusual these days, with one study linked to Georgetown University noting that a mere 2 percent of American Catholics "regularly" confess their sins to a priest.
Local odds being what they were, the Rev. Paul Scalia of Arlington, Va., once learned that he had come very close to facing one faithful Catholic whose confession would have -- literally -- hit close to home. That Saturday evening he heard a unique complaint from his father, Justice Antonin Scalia.
The issue "was not that I'd been hearing confessions, but that he'd found himself in my confessional line. And he quickly departed it," said Paul Scalia, during his father's nearly two-hour funeral Mass. "As he put it later, 'Like heck if I'm confessing to you!' The feeling was mutual."
This anecdote drew laughter in the massive Basilica of the National Shrine of the Immaculate Conception in Washington. But even this personal story was part of the priest's focus on eternal issues, rather than details of the life and lengthy U.S. Supreme Court career of his famous father.
After all, Antonin Scalia had made his feelings crystal clear -- writing to the Presbyterian minister who performed the 1998 funeral of Justice Lewis F. Powell Jr. -- that funerals should contain real sermons, not touchy-feely eulogies.
"I have attended so many funerals of prominent people that I consider myself a connoisseur of the genre," Scalia wrote. "When the deceased and his family are nonbelievers, of course, there is not much to be said except praise for the departed. ... But even in Christian services conducted for deceased Christians, I am surprised at how often the eulogy is the centerpiece of the service, rather than (as it was in your church) the Resurrection of Christ, and the eternal life which follows from that."
This is especially important, Justice Scalia stressed, "when the deceased was an admirable person" because "praise for his virtues can cause us to forget that we are praying for, and giving thanks for, God's inexplicable mercy to a sinner."
The justice's son focused attention on this problem in the first lines of his sermon, noting that this large throng had "gathered here because of one man. A man known personally to many of us, known only by reputation to even more, a man loved by many, scorned by others, a man known for great controversy, and for great compassion. That man, of course, is Jesus of Nazareth. ...
"Our Lord died and rose, not only for all of us, but also for each of us. And at this time we ... give thanks that he died and rose for Dad. Further, we give thanks that Jesus brought him to new life in baptism, nourished him with the Eucharist, and healed him in the confessional."
It's ironic that this theme drew praise from many Catholic commentators. After all, this emphasis on sin, forgiveness and eternal life is supposed to be at the heart of every funeral Mass, Tod Worner noted on his A Catholic Thinker website.
"Oh, don't be mistaken. Antonin Scalia was celebrated by his son," he wrote. "His marriage of 55 years. His fatherhood of nine and grandfatherhood of 36. His childlike playfulness and razor-sharp wit. And his deep devotion to the law and his country. ...
"But perhaps most compelling, most humbling and most true was the emphasis Fr. Paul placed on his father being a sinner. ... This was no shocking indictment, or sop to naysayers of the late justice. Rather, it was a simple declaration of the condition we all share: We are fallible, sinful, but redeemable."
Thus, the celebrant explained that his father truly believed, but "he did so imperfectly, like the rest of us." He loved his God and his neighbors, but "like the rest of us, did so imperfectly." While the justice was known as a "practicing Catholic," he was "practicing in the sense that he hadn't perfected it yet, or rather, that Christ was not yet perfected in him."
As he neared the end of his sermon, Paul Scalia stressed: "We are here, then, as he would want: to pray for God's inexplicable mercy to a sinner -- to this sinner, Antonin Scalia. ... That he rest in peace."
Terry Mattingly (tmatt.net) leads getreligion.org and is senior fellow for Media and Religion at The King's College in New York. He lives in Oak Ridge, Tenn.
Religion on 02/27/2016