John Chrysostom
Referencing Luke 15:19, I acknowledge my sins and confess my wrongdoings, hiding nothing from Your sight, and denying nothing that You know; as I stand as a guilty party before You, a lawless being, I sentence myself: yet You, as the Divine Judge, grant me mercy. ‘I have sinned against heaven and before You!’ I shrink from looking toward heaven, fearing the sight of the celestial expanse that serves as the accuser’s voice; I hesitate to gaze upon the brightness of the divine presence, my heart’s eyes tainted. ‘I have sinned against heaven and before You, and am no longer worthy to be called Your son.’ In this moment, I betray myself, condemn my own actions, and declare judgment upon my soul.
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There is no need for a tribunal to deliver a verdict, no witnesses to provide testimony, no accusers to cast blame. My conscience stands as an internal judge, relentless and fearsome; I bear within me the testimony of my soul, and my own gaze serves as my accuser. The very sights around me criticize me, the competitions of earthly desires cry out against me, and the hunts of sinful pursuits rise against me. My lasciviousness prevails, and my actions are etched in memory as if upon a disgraceful monument; my true nakedness exposes me, and even the rags I wear fill me with shame, leaving me unworthy to be called Your son. ‘Treat me as one of Your hired servants.’ Please do not cast me away from Your house, O Lord, for I fear that the enemy, finding me adrift, would ensnare me once more as a captive; yet, do not draw me near to Your solemn and holy feast, for I cannot approach the sacred with impure sight. Allow me to remain at the entrance of Your church with those who are being enumerated, so that, by observing the sacred rites being performed, I might gradually long to partake in them anew; that being immersed in the waves of the divine, I may cleanse away the disgrace of my sinful songs, and remove the filth that burdens my hearing; that, witnessing Your treasures misappropriated by the righteous, I may genuinely yearn for hands worthy of receiving them. When the wayward son sought such mercy and implored with tears—this is a reflection of the parable of the prodigal son.