Rebellion Strikes (Part 2)

Sister sternly pulled my arm, "Didn't you hear me? I said you were next." I hadn't even realized the line had moved in front of me. How long had I been gone lost in my own thoughts? Obediently, I walked over and sat beside Father, Mr. Grumpy himself. I went through the motions quickly and emotionless, and then stopped in mid-sentence. "It's been…" How long had it been since I was last at confession? "Who really cares?" I thought and said, "A week since my last confession" knowing full well it had been much longer than that. Father nodded.

I knew I was supposed to pour out my indiscretions at this point but wasn't in the mood. I toyed with how to proceed and Father eyed me curiously out of the corner of his eye. Feeling dangerously mischievous I proclaimed, "I don't have anything to confess, Father."

He shifted his weight and turned so I was looking straight at him. "You have nothing to confess?" He didn't sound like he believed me, probably because he didn't. I always had lots to say.

"No, I took a break from being a bad sinner this week, Father. All of us have to be good some time, don't we?" Part of me was thinking, "Have you lost your flipping mind, girl?" but the other part of me didn't care. For some reason, I felt like I was challenging him, probably because I was!

I could feel the tension growing between us as my defiance never weakened. "Get out of here now!" he bellowed. Oddly calm, I thought, "That took longer then I thought." I got up and walked out with Sister and everyone else staring at me. As I strode past Steven, he looked up with an odd smirk on his face. I knew I was going to be in deep trouble this time, but I didn't care. I don't even know why. I just didn't.

In the schoolyard I stood quietly gazing at the rose bushes, feeling anti-social, and not at all happy. My trip to see the principal had gone about as well as I had expected. I got a long lecture and a promise to call my Nan, which means I would be in deep doo doo when I got home. Still I didn't have any regrets. I was tired of this place and most everyone in it.

I felt warm hands wrap around my eyes. "Guess who?" I couldn't help but smile. "Hhhhmmm…Steven?" I asked trying to make it sound like I wasn't sure. He turned me towards him with a big grin. "What were you thinking?" I shrugged. He laughed, "I would've loved to have been a fly on the wall in Sister's office this morning. What happened?"

Not wanting to get into it, I shrugged again. "Okay, I get it. You don't want to talk about it. Meet me after school. I'll walk you home." The bell rang and we watched as everyone ran to get in line. "Well…?"

"Well, what?"

"Are you going to meet me?" I noticed he was holding my hand and realized I didn't even know he had taken it in the first place.

"Well, yeah, of course." He smiled, and we walked over to join the rest of the clan. He had never walked me home before, usually he disappeared as soon as we got out the doors, so it made me wonder why now.

Adam and Eve

Being a stubborn child, I had to test everything. If you told me not to touch the electrical outlet, I would touch it anyway. What was knowledge without the experience? This would pour over into my entire life. This seemed to be the cause of my pain as well as my joy. Gems are most often found after looking under a lot of rocks. I don’t think grown-ups looked at it that way, though. My inquisitive nature was more of a thorn in their side than a blessing.

One day, during religion class, Miss Conrad read to us the story of Adam and Eve. Immediately afterward she asked us what we thought. My hand promptly shot into the air. She looked around the room like she was begging for someone else to put their hand up, but mine was the only one.

“Yes, Tammy?”

"I don’t think it’s true.”

“Well, of course, it is. It’s in the Bible. The Bible is the Word of God.”

Without pause, I replied, “No. Why would God, who is ALL-loving make ALL people for ALL time be punished because of two people’s mistakes? And it’s not like a really big mistake or anything. Eve shared an apple with Adam. Big deal! God wants us to share. You even said that!”

“Yes, God does want us to share. Adam and Eve had all the Garden of Eden to share, except for this one apple. God told them they were not allowed to eat that apple, and they disobeyed.”

I tried to process this and, just as my teacher thought it was safe to move on, I interjected, “What does God care about one dumb apple when they had the whole Garden of Eden?” My classmates laughed.

My teacher, knowing I had the potential to make this an all day discussion, threw in the towel. She asked us to pull out our math books. I raised my hand. She looked away so I waved it real big to get her attention. She turned her back to me. I yelled, “Miss Conrad. Miss Conrad.”

“What is it, Tammy?”

"We aren’t supposed to start math for ten more minutes and…”

“Today we will do things differently. Open your book to page one hundred forty-six, class.” I shrugged. I don’t get grown-ups. They do the strangest things, and they don’t like to answer questions either.

To Confess or Not to Confess (Part 2)

“I went on the boys’ side of the schoolyard so many times. I got caught on top of Joey pounding his face into the ground,” I rushed on, “and that would be it. Guess I’ll have to say five ‘Hail Mary’s’ this time, huh, Father?” I grinned. Father turned ever so slowly towards me. I swear he looked like the devil himself had possessed him.

“Just what would make you hit another human being?” he said angrily. My grin disappeared.

“He was calling me a baby and a sissy. I’m not no sissy so I showed him I wasn’t.” Father seemed like he was going to blow. He looked up towards the ceiling and then back at me.

“You will say a full rosary and tell Joey you are sorry for your penance.” I gulped. I didn’t dare argue about that, but I sure wanted to. He shooed me off with a few waves of his hand.

“Hhmmph!” I thought. “It was worth a rosary to put Joey in his place.” I glanced back worried that I may have said it out loud, but Father was gazing straight ahead, lost in his thoughts.

A thought came into my mind and I turned back, “Father?”

“Yes?”

“Why do I have to tell you my sins? Why can’t I just tell God directly? I mean, God sees and hears everything anyway so what’s the difference?” Father took a very deep breath.

“Because you are born with sin and thus not worthy to talk to God. This is why you confess through a priest.”

“Oh, then you pass it on?” He nodded yes.

“But aren’t we talking to God when we say our prayers?”

“Yes, but that is not the same.” I didn’t get that one, but I let it go. I chewed on this information for a few seconds while Father stared at me coldly. It gave me chills, and I thought about something else.

“Who do you tell when you sin?”

“I tell God or another priest.”

“If we’re all born into sin then what makes you so special?” I thought.

Apparently, Sister is a mind reader too because she dragged me out of church by my ear and called my Nan, who dragged me all the way home by my ear. I think it was red for an entire month! I must’ve been thinking out loud without even knowing it. Sometimes I do that.

The Sacrament of Eucharist

Rows and rows of boys in neatly pressed suits and girls in pristine white veils and dresses made of laces and satins were almost spoiled by the dark, ominous skies. Various colored umbrellas hung precariously over the heads of the young children being quickly ushered from the convent to the church. It was the day of my First Holy Communion, and the clouds had burst open with a fierce downpour. The rain pounded the pavement around us, splashing dirt onto our shiny white shoes. It looked as dreary as I felt.

Making your First Holy Communion is a big deal in Catholicism. For the first time in a child’s life, you are old enough to enter into another aspect of your religion. It was a very special time we were told. We would be allowed to receive the body of Christ in the form of a wafer, which begged the questions, at least from me, “How did they get Jesus’ body into that little wafer? And why would you want to eat it?” Many more of these crossed my mind, some expressed and some not.

Then, of course, was the counterpart of the wafers, the wine (I thought you had to be an adult to drink?). But this wasn’t any ordinary wine, it was supposed to be the blood of Christ. Gross! This seemed pretty creepy to me. I guess, it was just me, though, because everyone else seemed to enjoy it quite a bit, especially the priests.

Part of me felt very proud to participate in this special occasion, parading across the schoolyard for all of our families to see, but another part of me could not escape all the questions it brought forth. It made me uncomfortable. As we entered our local church, we were escorted into the pews and warned again to be quiet. I sighed and nervously peeked back to catch a glimpse of my Nan and the rest of my family. I couldn’t see them so I turned back around and put my attention on the altar.

It was adorned and surrounded by beautiful white and blue flowers leftover from the May Procession, which was in honor of Mary, the Virgin Mother of Jesus. I had asked Nan what did it mean to be a “virgin," but she waved me off with a brief but abrupt answer that never made any sense to me.

When I asked my teacher that same question, “What was a virgin?” she turned several shades of red, stuttered awhile, and then asked why I wanted to know. Slightly relieved when I told her I wanted to know why Mary was called a virgin, she told me that God put Jesus in Mary’s belly. I thought about this and then said, “My neighbor was talking to my Nan and told her that Pauline would be a virgin for the rest of her life. Is God going to put a baby in her belly, too?”

My teacher’s mouth hung open and her face lit up like the red bulbs on our tree at Christmas time. “No, Tammy,” she managed to squeak out, “Mary was very special. This won’t happen again.” I chewed on that thought for a few moments and then spit out,

“Did God marry Mary afterwards? Did Mary divorce God and marry Joseph? Aren’t we all children of God? If we are then are our mommies virgins too…” The words flew out of my mouth like bullets but were halted in mid-air by the look on my teacher’s face. She reached up and rubbed her temples.

As she turned back to the class, she said, “We’ll talk about this more another day," which translates into “when hell freezes over.” I giggled at the memory of it and was snapped back into the present by Sister Mary tapping on my shoulder. She leaned close to my ear and whispered, “I have my eye on you, young lady.”

“Great!” I thought. “Why does she always have to sit right near me.”

Father Comes to Class

Two days later, Father Callahan took over our Religion class. I was glad to see he kept his promises. He was a younger priest and much nicer to look at then Sister Anne. Father sent Sister to the back of the room. I giggled into my hand as she tried to squeeze into an empty desk. It kind of looked like a penguin when they waddle their back end into something, and it struck me funny. When I turned around in my seat, Father wagged his finger at me.

“Okay, children, today we are going to talk about sins.” He made columns on the chalkboard for the venial sins and another one for the mortal sins. He asked us for examples of these. I sat and listened because everyone was yelling at once. Father had to tell everyone, “One at a time. We’ll start here and go all the way back.” Great! I was the very last one. They would take all my answers!

We had to name a sin and then say if it was big or small. Lying, disobeying parents, stealing, cheating, fighting, and not going to Mass on Sunday or Holy Days were some of the standard answers. Some of us were more original. Susie said her brother knotted her cat’s tail to a rope and then tied it to their fence and then made a loud noise causing the cat to try and run. That’s just mean!

Jeffrey said that his dad liked to look up their neighbor’s short skirts when her husband wasn’t looking. He said his mom caught his dad once, and she didn’t talk to him for a week! That reminded me of something and I piped up, “That’s okay. My dad came home drunk one night and brought his girlfriend with him! My mom cursed a lot, and there was lots of sinning going on that night. My dad wasn’t even allowed in the house for like an entire month! How many ‘Our Father’s’ would you have given for that, Father?”

I think that was the shortest religion class I ever had! And I never did get an answer to my question. How do you like that?

Confession 4 (final)

“But, Father, I still have more.”

“I think that can wait until next time.”

“Next time? But what if I get run over by a car? I won’t be cleansed of all my sins and I might….” I lowered my voice to a whisper, “Go to h-e- double l.” Father clutched his Bible.

I noticed his knuckles seemed very white, “You are not going to die between now and next week, Tammy.”

“Oh, yeah?” I exclaimed, “That’s a relief!”

I got two “Our Father’s” and three “Hail Mary’s." I wonder how he figures that out. As I knelt down in the pew and bent down my head to make it look like I was praying, I thought this over. Does he just pick a number out of his head? Or did God tell him that's what I had to do in order to be free of sin? Because saying a few prayers hardly seemed like a lot. A person could do a lot of sinning and come in and get them all forgiven. What's the point?

Feeling a presence beside me, I peeked out through my fingers. Great! Sister was kneeling beside me. You would think there were plenty of other kids to harass than only me. I sighed in resignation.

Confession

“Father, how much sin is too much sin?”

I heard a sigh escape him, and I peered through my thick, ugly glasses at him. He shifted in his seat. A tall, thin younger man with jet-black hair and deep, dark eyes stared back at me. He cleared his voice.

“Tammy, this is a confession. It is not a time for questions.” He turned his eyes forward and clutched his hands together, preparing himself to hear my long list of indiscretions.

Not willing to let go just yet I squeaked, “Why not?”

A bigger, deeper breath gusts out from his pursed lips. “Why not what?”

“Why isn’t it the time for questions?”

Already exasperated he said with feigned patience, “Because, Tammy, we have others waiting in line. It would not be fair to them if we sat here and chit-chatted.”

Satisfied that I would understand this, he once again faced, or perhaps braced would be a better description, himself towards the altar. I had other things in mind. “But confessions are about sins. And I’m asking how much is too much?” I leaned forward in my pew so I could see his face better. He looked like he was praying. I waited, but he seemed quiet for an awfully long time. I wondered if he were okay.

“Father?” No answer. I poked his arm and said a little louder in a whining voice, “Faaaattthheeerr!”

Maybe that was too loud. My voice echoed all around me, bouncing off the large, stone cold walls. Muffled laughter came from the line of children in back of me. Sister gave them one of those “Be quiet or else” looks then turned to me with another familiar look, “Sit up straight and quit your whining.” Wow! She’s good! I sat straighter and slid back letting the wood shoulder of the pew touch mine.

Father looked startled but was quick with his decision. “Tammy, if I agree to come to your religion class one day this week, can we get on with your confession?” I thought about it, rubbing my fingers across my chin.

"Tomorrow?”

“Uh…well…I don’t know about tomorrow.”

I itched my nose and said, “Why? Do you have to think about it?” He picked up his Bible and sat it upon his lap, perhaps looking for inspiration.

“It may be tomorrow, but it may also be another day. I need to check Sister Ann’s schedule.” His voice was firm and taking on an impatient tone.

I shrugged, and then began. “Father, please forgive me for I have sinned. It’s been…um…” Oh no! I couldn’t remember how many days, but I didn’t dare say that. What should I do? I took a deep breath and did what any other kid would do who was backed into a corner…the ones that were smart anyway. I improvised.

“It’s been fifty days since my last confession.” I announced matter of factly. Father’s eyebrows shot upward. Glancing at me out of the corner of his eyes, he said, “Fifty?”

“Well, I don’t actually remember exactly, but fifty sounds good.” I saw a small grin try to come up on the corner of his lips, but he cleared his voice again and sat up straighter. I wondered if Sister Anne yelled at him for not sitting up straight too.

“Continue.” he said his voice sounding tired. I thought about how I should probably work my way up from the smaller to the bigger offenses so as not to put him to shock or anything.

(To Be Continued...)



*** Some names have been changed for privacy sake and to protect the innocent.

The Sacraments

Sacraments were Catholicism’s version of initiations. First, you were baptized as a baby because, if you weren’t, you had to go to purgatory, a kind of holding tank for all the Souls who didn’t meet the requirements at the golden gate into heaven which was, of course, guarded by Saint Peter. (Well, that is purely subjective because no one actually knew for sure, but that’s how all the jokes go.)

Some may wonder, if you aren’t familiar with this religion and even if you were, why a pure infant would not automatically pass into heaven? Good point. It was one I made several times to no avail. The answer I received, and the only one I can give you in their defense was an age-old culprit called “original sin.”

Baptism, according to these teachings, washed away this kind of sin, the rest was on you. To get rid of that sin, you had to make the Sacrament of Confession, also known as the Sacrament of Penance. Apparently, second grade was when you were no longer allowed to sin in ignorance. Now you would be held accountable unless you went and confessed these sins to a mediator, a priest who would listen to your stumbling blocks on your path to God and then absolve or forgive you for your sins.

As a punishment for these mishaps, you would have to say these prayers that he gave you immediately afterwards. I wonder what happened if you didn’t say those prayers. Did they take back the forgiveness they just gave you or what?

Hand in hand with the Sacrament of Penance was the Sacrament of Holy Communion. This is where you dressed up in fancy white dresses and veils, at least the girls did. The boys would look too silly in that get up so they wore white suits, at least they did then. Whoever thought of the idea of putting kids in white clothes must’ve never had any children, but that’s just my opinion. I digress.

Holy Communion was where you finally were allowed to stand in long lines to receive the body and blood of Christ. Who knew that was going to be a big hit? Surely, it wasn’t me. I’m still trying to figure out how they turned Christ’s body into those small, cardboard tasting wafers. And why is drinking blood bad for vampires but not for the rest of the church going world? These questions weren’t well taken by my teachers so I will have to get back to you on that.

About fifth grade, you were considered old enough to renew your baptismal vows, and this is known as the Sacrament of Confirmation. Confirming your vows, confirmation, get it? It took me a while to figure out that one too. All I knew then is that you got a longer name for your parents to scream out to let you know just how mad they were.

For instance, I picked Theresa after my aunt and Mother Theresa was my idol in those days. So, when I was in trouble, Tammy Marie Stone was okay. But if I were in really big trouble Tammy Marie Theresa Stone vibrated throughout the neighborhood. I’m sure that wasn’t its intended purpose, but you couldn’t tell our moms and dads that.

There are some other sacraments, but these are mostly the ones I will refer to along our journey together. These were the ones I had direct experience with so I couldn’t really tell you too much about the others.

Introduction

Grown-ups! I don’t get them. They do the strangest things, and they don’t like to answer questions either. They either dodge your questions altogether, or they answer them without really answering them. Catholic schoolteachers and priests weren’t any different in my experience.

The Sacrament of Penance or Confession was another thing that never made much sense to me. Actually, not too much of the Catholic religion did. (This, of course, is my own personal feelings; and not meant to be a put-down on Catholicism. Each path has its place. It just didn’t happen to be mine.)

I struggled with this quite a bit growing up. A voice always whispered, “This isn’t right. It isn’t like that at all.” I’m still not exactly sure who the Voice was, but it got me into lots of mischief. Some may say this voice was my conscience, a departed loved one, or maybe even a guardian angel. Maybe it was, maybe it wasn’t. Perhaps it doesn’t really matter who it was as much as what it was saying to me, and the experiences that resulted from the deep questions that flooded my mind and my heart on any given day.

I would like to share those experiences with you. Some you may relate to, and maybe some you won’t. Perhaps, you came away with treasures from your own childhood religion, and this is not meant to make light of them in any way. This is simply one little girl’s views and opinions of life, religion, and love.

Readers beware: Must have a sense of humor!