It was fourth grade when I, along with all my other uniform-clad Catholic school classmates, was gently forced into making my first confession. We didn’t have one of those confessional booths so prevalent in movies and priest abuse legal documents, but the school made up for it by throwing a few chairs in the back chapel. Sitting face-to-face with a man of the cloth, I confessed nine years worth of sins: I fight with my sister sometimes. I don’t always listen to my mom. I wish I had a Sega Genesis like the next-door neighbor. Done. Ten minutes and five Hail Mary’s later, I was relishing in the glory of absolution.

I don’t think I’ve been back since middle school, mostly because confession is terrifying. Talking to strangers is nerve-racking enough; telling all your horrible secrets to an old man in robes feels more like an arraignment hearing than religion. Plus, I’m pretty sure I just stopped sinning, so it didn’t make a ton of sense to waste the precious time of both myself and the Lord. But if one Paris telecommunications company has their way, it may be time to reconsider the policy. After all, I’d still kill for a Genesis, and I think that’s a double-sin.

ABBAS Interactive, the French group responsible for both my newfound optimism and several “Did you mean: ABBA?” Google messages, recently established a confession phone-line, allowing French believers the opportunity to save their souls without the hassle of struggling to find a Catholic church in France. Suddenly, confession doesn’t feel so frightening.

Of course, it isn’t the act itself of confessing that makes people uneasy; it’s the guilt that comes with it. But in-person guilt is exponentially worse than over-the-phone guilt, and if things really get bad, I could always use a fake name.

But no matter what Smashmouth says, not everything that glitters is gold — unless you’re in the Vatican, in which case everything, even the stuff that doesn’t glitter, is. Unfortunately, the service isn’t actually sanctioned by the Conference of French Bishops, which means God can’t give you the “no biggie” shrug and send you on your way with a blank slate. Without the approval of the church — not to mention the use of actual priests — you’re pretty much just talking about dirty stuff into a phone, and if that’s your thing, there are plenty of late-night commercials offering similar services.

But why is the French Church so quick to condemn the idea of telephone confessions? The number of church-goers in Europe has been declining for years, and if people can find a way to work God into their busy, hedonistic lifestyles, maybe there’s still time to prove Nietzsche wrong. The Church could even lift an idea from the laity and start charging for the service; ABBAS went with the .34 Euros-per-minute plan, but I bet the Church could go a little higher. It’s not like God has rollover. And with the new cash stream, the Church could finally afford to buy some more priceless art or pay for that hit on Dan Brown.

Over-the-phone confessions are a great idea because they combat the greatest problem with the modern Church: it’s hard. Sunday morning is a really inconvenient time for a power lecture, and when did God decide that fish doesn’t count as meat? I know the Church has a grudge against reform, but Vatican II was almost 50 years ago. Phone confessions, along with TV mass and in-home transubstantiation (you can probably use Tostitos), would really help bring God into the 21st century, where nobody really cares about Him. But we could change that.

Especially if they’d start taking texts.

Sean Kittridge ([email protected]) is a senior majoring in journalism and history.