A Reflection on Venial Sin, the Confiteor, and Christ’s Mercy

By His wounds we are healed.

It happens sometimes when I least expect it.

I kneel, cross myself, close my eyes, and begin to pray. Then, out of nowhere, a vision comes over me. I see Jesus scourged, beaten, and bloodied. I hear the crack of a whip. I feel the lash. My body jolts like I’ve been struck. My chest tightens, and tears start to roll down my cheeks. It’s not every time i put myself in his presence. It’s random. But when it happens, it feels like Jesus is trying to get my attention. I realized that it’s often after I’ve sinned in small venial ways and haven’t brought them to Him yet.

It’s not the mortal sins that keep me from Communion. It’s those venial sins that still need forgiveness. And in those moments of prayer, I know there’s something in me that needs to be healed, or something I need to forgive in someone else.

That’s why the beginning of Mass has become so important to me. Right after the opening greeting, we pause for the Penitential Act. Most of the time we rush through it — Lord, have mercy. Christ, have mercy. Lord, have mercy. But I try not to. I pause, putting a breath between the words. I’ll pray it like this: Lord… have mercy. Then again, Christ… have mercy. Slowing it down makes the words personal. It’s no longer a routine. It’s me asking Him directly to look at my heart and show mercy.

Sometimes we pray the Confiteor instead. Many people don’t know that’s what it’s called, but you’d recognize it right away: I confess to almighty God, and to you, my brothers and sisters, that I have greatly sinned…

I also take my time with that prayer, word for word, I feel its weight. I am not only admitting my sin to God. I am also asking the whole Church to stand with me and pray for me. That is why the prayer ends with the words: Therefore, I ask blessed Mary, ever-Virgin, all the Angels and Saints, and you, my brothers and sisters, to pray for me to the Lord our God. Those aren’t empty words. They are a real plea for help.

Every part of the Confiteor holds meaning. When I begin with I confess to almighty God, I am taking responsibility. I acknowledge what I have done and what I have failed to do. Then comes the line through my fault, through my fault, through my most grievous fault. The repetition is not there to crush me with guilt but to draw me into humility, to remind me that sin is real and personal. Many people strike their chest during those words, a gesture that shows sorrow and contrition. It is a way of saying with the body what the heart is already crying out: I am sorry.

The part that always stops me is when I say, and you, my brothers and sisters. Sin is never only private. It wounds the Body of Christ. My failures affect others, even if I do not see it. Asking those around me to pray for me is a reminder that my healing is tied to theirs. We carry each other. We forgive each other. We pray for each other.

The Confiteor is powerful because it puts me back in my place. I am not perfect. I am not strong enough on my own. I sin every day, whether by not putting God first or by letting unholy thoughts distract me in prayer. I need God’s mercy, and I need the prayers of others to lift me up.

When I pray it this way, something happens. The weight I’ve been carrying begins to lift. I remember that even venial sins wound my relationship with God and others. And I remember, too, that Jesus already felt the sting of those sins. “He was pierced for our sins, crushed for our iniquity. He bore the punishment that makes us whole, by his wounds we were healed” (Isaiah 53:5). Those words don’t distinguish between mortal and venial. They cover it all.

The Penitential Act isn’t a replacement for confession. It doesn’t absolve mortal sin. But when prayed with real contrition, it is a way to come honestly before God and let Him forgive the venial sins that cling to us. It’s a moment to breathe mercy in and breathe guilt out. It’s a way to prepare for the Eucharist with a clean heart, or at least a lighter one.

And the grace of that prayer doesn’t have to stay at Mass. At the end of the day, I sometimes pray the Examen. It’s a simple way of looking back over the day, noticing where I fell short, thanking God for His presence, and asking His forgiveness again before I sleep. It isn’t complicated, but it keeps my heart tender. It reminds me that I always need mercy, even for the small things.

Both the Confiteor and the Examen keep me rooted in humility. They remind me that venial sins aren’t harmless. They chip away at the heart. They may not block me from Communion, but they still weigh me down. Over time, those little weights feel like stones in a backpack. One or two don’t seem heavy, but carry them long enough and the straps start to dig in.

That is why Confession still matters. It is where Jesus takes the whole pack off and carries it Himself. The Penitential Act and the Examen keep us honest and open, but confession is where the priest speaks Christ’s words of absolution and mercy. Venial or mortal, confessed sins are forgiven. And the soul feels free again.

Every time I see the crucifix, I think of His Sacred Heart, pierced and broken open for us. Blood and water poured out, not only for the sins that shock the world, but for the quiet ones that live in our daily lives. His love was so complete that nothing was left uncovered.

Maybe you’ve felt the same weight. Maybe you’ve thought, these are only venial sins, they don’t matter that much. But let me say this: they matter to Jesus. Not because He wants to count them against you, but because He already felt them. And He wants to take them from you.

So the next time you kneel, cross yourself, close your eyes, and begin to pray, don’t be surprised if the weight of Christ’s Passion comes over you. If you feel that wince, that jolt in your chest, take it as an invitation. Slow down when you pray the Confiteor. Let those words sink in. Make them personal. And if your heart still needs more, don’t be afraid to step into the confessional.

Because here is the truth: every lash He endured had a name on it. Every wound He carried was for someone. For me. For you.

When I see Him scourged in prayer, I can’t help but think: that lash had MY name on it. But so did His mercy. He chose it for me, and He chooses it for you.

Don’t let fear keep you away. Don’t let shame hold you back. His arms are open. His mercy is waiting. His wounds are still healing.

Because by His wounds, even the small ones, you are healed.

A gentle invitation for you this week: Take a moment to reflect on the sins you carry, even the ones that seem small. Bring them to the Lord in the Penitential Act at Mass. Pray the Confiteor slowly and from the heart. Try the Examen before you go to sleep. And when your heart needs more, bring them to Him in Confession. Let Him lift the weight from your shoulders. And remember the truth: He bore them all, because He loves you!