Forgive me Father, for I have sinned.

I didn’t really mean to. I thought I was doing the right thing.

But over time I started believing it was more important to convince people I was right about what you want than to show them who you are.

I became more concerned with piousness than piety.

I gave you allegiance, but not submission.

I invoked your name to belittle, argue, and exclude.

I used your words not to heal, but to attack.

You asked me to be your hands and feet, but all I wanted to be was your mouthpiece.

Forgive me, for I have sinned.

Forgive me Sister, for I have sinned.

I thought I was following the rules. But in doing so I failed to appreciate you for all you are.

I pigeonholed you into unfair and antiquated gender roles.

I devalued your work, and I made matrimony and motherhood your only acceptable virtues.

When you needed support, I responded with empty rituals.

When you needed to express yourself, I handed you a one-size-fits-all formula to follow.

I disrespected you, objectified you, and oppressed you in countless ways.

Forgive me, for I have sinned.

Forgive me Brother, for I have sinned.

I took you for granted.

I missed so many opportunities to engage you in conversation.

Instead of celebrating your unique ability to contribute, I offered you a litany of boredom and irrelevance.

When we were together, I failed to respect your particular gifts and talents and thrust you into roles for which you were not suited.

When you wanted adventure, I offered chores. When you wanted meaning, I offered clichés and platitudes. When you wanted a strong foundation, I offered toxic masculinity.

Forgive me, for I have sinned.

Forgive me Friend, for I have sinned.

I meant to be helpful.

But I assumed you wanted the same things as me, without ever asking. I saw you through my own eyes instead of getting to know who you are.

Our relationship was little more than a consumer transaction to me.

When you needed me to listen to you, I only saw ingratitude.

When you needed me to help you, I demanded that you try harder.

I used you for my own benefit without seeking to benefit you.

Forgive me, for I have sinned.

Forgive me Neighbor, for I have sinned.

You weren’t like me, so we never talked.

You came from a different place, your skin was a different color, you didn’t believe the same things as me, and you loved the people I thought it was wrong for you to love.

I never bothered to try to know you, because it was easier to just believe what others said about you.

I wanted you to conform to my ways before I would even approach you, and I missed out on all the richness, the beauty, and the joy I could have experienced through you.

Forgive me, for I have sinned.

Forgive me World, for I have sinned.

I was supposed to change you.

But I was too easily drawn to status, power, influence, and privilege.

I was supposed to bring justice, but instead I joined forces with the unjust.

I offered banal, insipid answers to your deepest worries and hardest questions.

I did good works on your behalf, to be sure. But too often those works came with an agenda.

I wanted to be in you but not of you, so I withdrew from you rather than face your difficulties side-by-side…and I pretended I was better than you because of it.

Forgive me, for I have sinned.

I am the Church, and this is my confession.

Forgive me, for I have sinned.

Adapted from an article originally posted April 23, 2014