-
Father Erick Arnauz, pastor of Sacred Heart Parish in Olema, is seen hearing the confession of a penitent on May 23 in the St. Raphael rectory parking lot. Father Arnauz has joined Father Andrew Spyrow, the San Rafael parish's pastor, for car-window confessions Saturdays 3:30-4:30 p.m. (Photos by Dennis Callahan/Catholic San Francisco)
May 28, 2020
Christina Gray
Catholic San FranciscoFather Andrew Spyrow and Father Erick Arnauz stood on the sunbaked blacktop of the St. Raphael Parish parking lot for an hour May 23 hearing the car-window confessions of local Catholics. Their white clerical robes were topped by sunglasses and sun hats.
The 3:30-4:30 Saturday time slot is the Marin parish’s regular weekend confession time.
Pastor Father Spryow told Catholic San Francisco he decided to see if there was an appetite in his parish community for this unique alternative to the physical confessional. His have been closed to the faithful since March to stem the spread of the coronavirus.
“Mother Church is always here,” said Father Spyrow as he waved to the driver of a Toyota Prius whose sins he has just absolved. “We’re like the postal service in that way."
His face is largely concealed by a black mask, but his eyes say he is smiling.In the absence of public Mass and the physicality of the sacraments, many who come to confession, he said, are “very appreciative just to see their priest.”
Some weekends he only sees one car, he told Catholic San Francisco, and sometimes, “none at all.” Other weekends a caravan of vehicles will arrive.
Today, a work-worn utility truck with a ladder strapped to the rack rumbles up the drive with a sign tacked to its front window with blue painter’s tape. It reads: “Essential Worker.”
Approaching the passenger side of the vehicle to maintain “social distance,” Father Spryow hears the driver's confession while the engine sputters, the sandy-pink St. Raphael Church steeple rising behind penitent and confessor.
Rosary beads swing from the rear-view mirror as the truck lurches off the lot and a red Mercedes takes its place.
The drive-through confessions brings out Catholics who make a confession regularly, said Father Spyrow, but also those who may not have been inside a church confessional for some time.
“I bring these little Act of Contrition cards with me,” he said, reaching for his pockets, for when penitents stumble over the traditional prayer.
Father Erick Arauz, pastor of Sacred Heart Church in Olema, joins Father Spryow some Saturdays for help with Spanish language confessions.
He said penitents bring more to their confessions in the pandemic-era.
There’s more time to think about things, he said, like one’s good and bad choices, family relationships — and death and eternity.
“People feel well when they talk," said Father Arnauz. "Confession isn’t just about sin, it’s also about listening.”
Father Spyrow also hears private, face-to-face confessions by appointment in the rectory, as do other priests in the archdiocese.
The Archdiocese of San Francisco has allowed individual pastors to approach confession differently during the pandemic.
Father William Brown, pastor of St. Hilary Parish in Tiburon said associate pastor Father Ernie Jandonero’s career as a nurse before being ordained a year ago has been “a great help to me in making decisions that are safer for our people.”
Confessions there are outdoors in the coastal air and by appointment only.
“Sometimes a whole family comes, one-by-one from the family car; sometimes it's one person who needs to talk,” he said.
How Father Spyrow has adapted confession to pandemic public health restrictions has seemed to also capture the curiousity of the secular world. National Geographic was at St. Raphael a few weekends ago taking photos of the Saturday confession hour after the local Marin Independent Journal ran a story a few weeks earlier.
The photos taken of Father Spyrow and Father Arnauz by Catholic San Francisco for this story were posted to Facebook May 25. The post quickly went viral.
“What days and times? I need to do it,” posted Patricia C. Alcala Gutierrez.
“Thank God, who does not blind us to seek alternatives and new paths to Him!,” said Viky Corona.