Jesus came so that we may live, so that we may have life abundantly (cf. Jn 10:10). God wants us to be happy. "God, infinitely perfect and blessed in himself" (CCC 1), created us so that we may share in his happiness (cf. CCC 1). In him happiness has its true meaning. He is our beatitude and without him there is no joy. Separated and apart from him, our life dries up like branches cut off from the vine (cf. Jn 15:1-6).

In the Eucharist Jesus gives us life, divine life, himself: "Truly, truly I say to you, unless you eat the flesh of the Son of man and drink his blood, you have no life in you; he who eats my flesh and drinks my blood has eternal life, and I will raise him up on the last day... As the living Father sent me, and I live because of the Father, so he who eats me will live because of me" (Jn 6:53-54, 57).

"This is a hard saying, who can listen to it?" (Jn 6:59-60) - this was the reaction of many of Jesus' disciples when he uttered these words in the synagogue of Cafarnaum. Whether gentiles or Jews they laughed at these words; they regarded Christians as "man-eaters", "cannibals". For this reason some theologians have been tempted to interpret these words "symbolically", as a mere "figure of speech" that Jesus did not intend to be taken literally.

In the course of history the Lord has continually shown just how true and real his words are by granting some persons the particular grace to be nourished, even physically, on the Eucharist. For example, St Catherine of Siena (1347-1380) and St Nicola of Flüe (1417-1487) were sustained for years solely by the Eucharist. A particularly striking example in our time is the French peasant Marthe Robin, who for fifty years was nourished only by the Eucharist.

"For my flesh is food indeed, and my blood is drink indeed. He who eats my flesh and drinks my blood abides in me, and I in him" (Jn 6:55-56).

The entire fullness of divine life is at our disposal. Jesus wants to communicate this so that we may live, so that we may have life abundantly (cf. Jn 10:10). But this communi-cation is startling. Left to ourselves we cannot attain an abundant fullness of life. We are not disposed to divine life; we are unable to receive it really or effectively if debarred from it by sin. This is the obstacle on the path leading towards happiness. Sin separates us from God; it blocks the flow of life that God wants to communicate to us. Sin sepa-rates persons from one another; it sets up divisions and discord; it destroys communion between people. It brings about disharmony within ourselves, making us disorientated, disquiet, dissatisfied. Sin results always in causing further sins: "sin tends to reproduce itself and reinforce itself" (CCC 1865). "'Structures of sin' are the expression and effect of personal sins" (CCC 1869); they in their turn lead others to "do evil" (idem). In the clearest way this is evident in the evil of bribery and corruption, which is profoundly ru-ining many countries, since this evil undermines the basis of any social progress.

For this reason on Easter Sunday evening the Risen Lord gave his disciples the most pre-cious Paschal gift: the gift of forgiving sin in his name through the power of the Holy Spirit and the authority of God. He even endowed them with the authority to withhold absolution from sins where the right dispositions were lacking: "If you retain the sins of any, they are retained" (Jn 20:23).

Both the Eucharist and the Remission of sins are fruits of Jesus Christ's Passover, of his suffering, of his death and resurrection. But what is their relation to one another? Did not Jesus die and rise again to reconcile us to the Father and to give us his life? Why was there then a particular charge given to the apostles to forgive sins? During the Last Sup-per Jesus himself pronounced those words over the blessed cup: "this is my blood of the covenant, which is poured out for many for the forgiveness of sins" (Mt 26:28). If the Lord has already poured out once and for all his blood for the forgiveness of sin, why did he then institute a particular ministry to remit sins (or not do so) in his name?

The answer to this problem we may perhaps find in another command given by the Lord on the evening before his passion: "Do this in remembrance of me" (Lk 22:19; 1 Cor 11:24f.). This command does not entail a mere remembering of Jesus' Passover; rather, this Passover becomes present: "As often as the sacrifice of the Cross by which 'Christ our Pasch has been sacrificed' is celebrated on the altar, the work of our redemption is carried out." Every time that we celebrate the Eucharist, every time that we receive Christ in Holy Communion, our redemption from sin is accomplished. St Ambrose states this in a finer way: "'For as often as we eat this bread and drink the cup, we proclaim the death of the Lord' (cf. 1 Cor 11:26). If we proclaim the Lord's death, we proclaim the forgiveness of sins. If as often as his blood is poured out, it is poured for the forgiveness of sins, I should always receive it, so that it may always forgive my sins. Because I al-ways sin, I should always have a remedy."

Indeed, the Eucharist is the remedy for the sinner against sin, because in it the action of Jesus' redemption is present: his death for my sins! When Jesus was crucified he prayed for those who were putting him to death: "Father, forgive them; for they know not what they do" (Lk 23:34). Since all of us crucified him with our sins (cf. CCC 598), this prayer of Jesus applies to all of us: for each one of us Jesus gave his life. Because of our misdeeds he was condemned, he bore our guilt. The recognition of this overwhelming discovery was revealed to Paul on the road to Damascus: this Jesus of Nazareth, whom he was persecuting, in persecuting his disciples (cf. Ac 9:4-5) was none other than "the Son of God, who loved me and gave himself for me" (Gal 2:20).

How is it that we cannot long to come to Jesus with the entire misery of our sins and er-rors, with all our preoccupations and the burdens we bear, since he said: "Come to me, all who labour and are heavy laden, and I will give you rest" (Mt 11:28)? Is the Eucharist not the place where Christ "touches" us, where he gives us his saving presence, where he comforts and strengthens us in our journeying towards the home of the Father?

This way of regarding the Eucharist and Communion as a saving encounter with the Sa-vour, with our Master who redeems and forgives us, has paved the way - together with other considerations - towards making it possible for the reception of frequent com-munion, which for too long had been neglected.

When I was a youth fewer persons used to go frequently and regularly to receive Holy Communion. For the most part it was customary not to go to Communion without first going to Confession. This made Communion a rather solemn occasion, which was re-garded, or rather, kept in a special way like a family feast.

Today, frequent communion is a almost everywhere the common practice, while Confes-sion has in many places almost completely disappeared, even if sometimes there are hopeful signs of its renewed revival. For example, I have heard that here in Rome during the Holy Year more people are going to Confession than was expected.

The Holy Year is dedicated in a special way to the Eucharist and also to the sacrament of Confession. In many places of ecclesial renewal a similar phenomenon can be noticed: a deeper love for the presence of the Lord in the Eucharist and a strong yearning for the grace of the sacrament of Confession; the renewed and deeply rediscovered love for both these sacraments are the sure sign of ecclesial renewal in all parts of the world.

We see how these two sacraments are closely linked in a special way in the ministry of two great priestly figures, the Curé of Ars and Blessed Padre Pio of Pietralcina. Their entire priestly life turned about these two sacraments, the Eucharist and Confession, which were like the two focuses of an ellipse. I myself once had the grace to see how Padre Pio celebrated Holy Mass. It left an unforgettable impression on me: everything was here completely given over to the mystery celebrated in the Eucharist. It was visibly and tangibly evident that Padre Pio was living completely what he was celebrating. Something similar could be perceived also in the saintly Curé of Ars. His love for the presence of the Lord in the Eucharist, in the tabernacle deeply impressed people: "often in his teaching it happened that he used to speak of the joy that powerfully takes hold of us in the presence of Jesus Christ in the Holy Eucharist. He used to speak of it with such devotion and happiness that his heart was often so moved so that he could not continue speaking; his tears made up for his words." He himself used to say: "My dear children! What is our Lord doing in the sacrament of his love? His generous heart is filled with love for us. From this heart tenderness and mercy radiate to cancel the sins of the world." While both of these persons, the Curé of Ars and Padre Pio, so intensely lived the Eucharist as a celebration of our redemption, they spent many hours daily in the confessional. Their love for the Eucharist was inseparably linked to their heroic service to the sacrament of Confession. People would come great distances for confession to the Curé of Ars and to Padre Pio. They would approach the confessional, wait with patience, and depart from it consoled and freed.

What was, what is the bonding experience of the Eucharist and Confession, that shines forth in these great saints? Without any doubt it is the fact that in the Eucharist as well as in the sacrament of Confession God's inconceivable love, his boundless mercy, awaits us; that in both these sacraments we become touched by God's outreaching care: "He has first loved us" (1 Jn 4:19). And this love comes to meet us, it follows us, it seeks us and waits for us. "It is not the sinner who returns to God to seek his forgiveness; rather, it is God himself who runs after the sinner to bring him back to himself," as the Curé of Ars put it.

In both sacraments God's love comes to meet us; God longs to give himself to us, he wants to help and heal us. This is not incredible, as a German Franciscan puts it: "We are not the ones who pray to God, but it is God who is begging us. The prayer for God to have mercy on us does not begin with us, but it is the merciful Father, who allows us to pray to receive his mercy towards us: 'We beseech you on behalf of Christ, be reconciled to God' (2 Cor 5:20)."

But do we need to be reconciled? Are we irreconcilable? If we see how the practice of going to Confession has decreased (at least in some countries of Europe), we should ask ourselves if this has not something to do with the loss of a "sense of sin". It can obvi-ously be objected that the sacrament of Reconciliation is strictly speaking necessary only for the situation of mortal sin, that is, for sins that indicate a real break in our relationship with God and the Church and that can be overcome only through sacramental reconcilia-tion with God (cf. CCC 1856). "Venial sins" do not necessarily require the sacrament of Reconciliation in order to obtain forgiveness (cf. CCC 1458, 1863). In the case of venial sins is there not a "sufficient" disposition towards repentance, penitence, request for God's forgiveness as is expressed at the beginning of every eucharistic celebration? In the penitential act of the Kyrie, in the prayers before Holy Communion we explicitly pray for the Lord to forgive all our sins, to free us from every evil and to reconcile us to him-self and to one another. Is this not enough? Why does the Church recommend that we regularly confess even our "daily faults", our "venial sins"? In the Catechism of the Catholic Church we can find the reason for this: "Indeed regular confession of our venial sins helps us form our conscience, fight against evil tendencies, let ourselves be healed by Christ and progress in the life of the Spirit. By receiving more frequently through this sacrament the gift of the Father's mercy, we are spurred to be merciful as he is merciful (cf. Lk 6:36)" (CCC 1458).
If it were not like this how could we explain that even saints frequently went to confes-sion? Would confession not be indeed less necessary for them than for me? Does their love for the Eucharist and their frequent confession have a deep and intimate connection? Now in the last part of this catechetical instruction, I would like to speak of this connec-tion in a clearer way.

God is holy and we are sinners:

At the beginning of Jesus' public ministry the evangelist Luke describes the miracle of the catch of "an enormous quantity of fish" after the disciples toiled all night in vain. On seeing this miracle, the great quantity of fish, Simon Peter "fell down at Jesus' knees, saying, 'Depart from me, for I am a sinful man, Lord'" (Lk 5:8). In coming face to face with the holiness and the greatness of God, Peter's overwhelmed reaction is: Go away from me, I am not worthy, I am a sinner! Beholding God's holiness that shone forth in Jesus, he recognised his misery and sinfulness.

This is constantly the experience of various people of the Bible. They see their own sin-fulness in becoming aware of God's holiness. Before the Lord enters "our house" in communion we also say in the words of the Roman centurion: "Lord, I am not worthy to receive you, but only say the word and I shall be healed" (cf. Lk 7:6f.).

The more that we become aware of the one who comes to meet us in the Eucharist, the clearer becomes our sense of unworthiness: "I am a sinful person!"; "Lord, I am not worthy." The more profoundly that we understand in faith how incredibly great is the compassion, mercy and love of him who wants to give himself to us in the Eucharist, the greater must be our trust in him:
Before you, Lord, I am only an unworthy sinner; I can tell you of everything that burdens me; I can confess to you openly all my failings and my sins; before you I must conceal nothing as I do before other people and before myself; before you I must not wear any mask, because you know me through and through; you know me, Lord, better than I know myself; and furthermore, knowing even the deepest depths of my heart and my fault, you do not condemn me, but rather, restore me, forgive me and give me the chance of a new beginning: "Neither do I condemn you; go, and do not sin again" (Jn 8:11).

The experience of the Christian life shows us this: the more that we know the love of Christ that overcomes all that we can imagine, the clearer and more sorrowful becomes the recognition of our sins. For in the first place we do not understand the meaning of sin through a list of commandments and prohibitions - even though these may be a help, and moreover, though necessary because of our weakness. We recognise what sin is by looking on God's love. Only then do we become struck by that "sorrow of the soul" (CCC 1451) for not having responding to God's love, for having loved so little.

Repentance leads to Confession:

Just as a child admits to its mother its mistakes with complete trust if it feels loved and accepted, so also in Confession we express our own faults and the consequences of re-penting for not having returned love for God's love.
The step that leads us to the sacrament of Confession, to admitting our faults before a priest, to whom as "Christ's ambassador" (cf. 2 Cor 5:20) is entrusted the ministry of reconciliation (cf. 2 Cor 5:18), is often most difficult because we have to overcome the shame of exposing our wounds. However St Jerome long ago stated: "for if the sick per-son is too ashamed to show his wound to the doctor, the doctor cannot heal what he does not know."

What a liberating strength is released by the confession of one's own sins that takes place in the secrecy of the sacrament of Reconciliation. Today a kind of public confession be-comes ever more fashionable on television. In what are called "Talk-Shows" the most intimate concerns, conflicts, wounds become aired in public. It is not at all clear if this exhibitionism results in some form of healing. In the secrecy of the sacrament of Recon-ciliation on the other hand, confession of our sins can be a decisive step towards healing. For this sacrament is not meant only to lay bare mistakes and sins, but to heal and trans-form our lives. As in all the sacraments and above all in the Eucharist, so also in this sac-rament of Reconciliation what is at stake is the bringing about a true change and renewal of the person.

Absolution and consecration:

In the simplest words of absolution something takes place that can be compared with the mystery of consecration in the Mass: "during Mass through the simple words: 'This is my body, this is my blood' such very ordinary and fragile elements as bread and wine be-come transformed into the substance of the real, risen and glorified Body of Christ. In the mystery of absolution, through the simple words: 'I absolve you of your sins...', the frail, broken, wounded and guilty person of a sinner becomes reconstituted; his flesh, soul and spirit become reintegrated into the whole glorified Body of Christ, into the Church." What Christ does for the whole Church, he does for every individual member of the Church: "Christ loved the Church and gave himself up for her, that he might sanc-tify her, having cleansed her by the washing of water [of baptism] with the word [Recon-ciliation], that he might present the Church to himself in splendour, without spot or wrinkle or any such thing, that she might be holy and without blemish" (Eph 5:25-27). Through the word of the forgiveness of sins that the priest pronounces with Jesus' authority - because only God can forgive sins - the sinner is transformed, renewed, be-coming truly a living member of the Church and of the Body of Christ. Now we can ap-proach again the Lord's table, to share in the festive banquet of those reconciled with Christ.

Eucharist - the feast of the reconciled:

Perhaps by now it has become somewhat clearer how both the Paschal gifts of Christ, the Eucharist and Forgiveness of sins, are inseparably bound together, even though we can clearly distinguish them.

In the ancient Church the newly baptised were enabled to participate in the eucharistic celebration after having received baptism, while beforehand they could participate in it only during the liturgy of the word. Only baptised persons participate in the Eucharist, only those to whom baptism has remitted all their sins: "The Eucharist is properly the sacrament of those who are in full communion with the Church" (CCC 1395).

If sin separates and estranges us from God and from one another, then we must first be reconciled with God and with one another before approaching the Lord's table: "So if you are offering your gift at the altar, and there remember that your brother has some-thing against you, leave your gift there before the altar and go, first be reconciled to your brother, and then come and offer your gift" (Mt 5:23-24).

To approach the Lord's table without being reconciled with him can become a reason for being condemned: "For anyone who eats and drinks without discerning the body eats and drinks judgement upon himself." And Paul adds: "That is why many of you are weak and ill" (1 Cor 11:29f.).

We have perhaps regrettably lost sight of the fact that communion, so to speak, requires preparation. Should this preparation always be by means of the sacrament of Reconcilia-tion? Certainly not, because strictly speaking this is necessary only if mortal sin separates us from God and the Church. But at the same time, experience shows that we can say that if we overly neglect Confession we run the risk of becoming accustomed to our "lit-tle" mistakes and sins and, not being sensitive to these any more, our hearts become hardened and love grows cold. Jesus has shown the extent to which love grows cold in the parable of the good Samaritan where he describes the attitude of the priest and the levite, who pass by on the other side, casting a blind eye on the man struck down by brigands (cf. Lk 10:30-32); Jesus also gives the example of the wicked rich man who was insensitive to the plight of the poor Lazarus, who languished at his door covered with sores (cf. Lk 16:19-31).

In this regard Mother Teresa of Calcutta had the words of the crucified Jesus written everywhere in her communities: "I thirst!" The Lord thirsts for our love, for our hearts. He wants to give himself to us. Through us he wants to give others his love. By means of both his Paschal gifts, the Remission of sins and the Eucharist, he wants to make us "missionaries of his love". Two thousand years ago he "came to cast fire upon the earth" (Lk 12:49). And how he would wish that this fire, the fire of his love, the fire of the Holy Spirit set the world alight in our hearts (cf. Lk 12:49). In this Holy Year I would like to pray in a special way that this takes place!

Cardinal Christoph Schönborn
Archbishop of Vienna